


Inkstains

by MagieFish



Series: Stains [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alice is evil too, All of this effects the cannon of other works, And he’s tired, And some meh stuff, Body horror and such, Edge - Freeform, Gen, Guess who that applied to, Henry’s trapped in a loop, Horrifying imagery, I really just don’t know what to write here, Implied Death, Joey’s just evil, Like 99 percent pure evil, Memory Loss, Parents disappearing, Shorts stories, Strange dreams ooo, This is just so cheery isn’t it?, Violence, Vivid descriptions of death, but also some fluff, some more than others
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-08-24 03:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 19,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16632095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagieFish/pseuds/MagieFish
Summary: A collection of random stories set in the ‘Stains’ series.(They’re all cannon.)





	1. Toys

Minette cradled the doll in her hands. It was hand made, carefully sewn together. It was soft and nice. The materials to make it must’ve been expensive. It had a little smile on it’s face and strands of yellow hair came from it’s head. Minette smiled at it, fiddling with the buttons. Her father was writing a letter nearby. 

“Daddy.”, He looked up through his glasses, “Since when did you know sew?”

”I’ve always known how to sew.”, He replied.

She tilted her head in confusion, “I thought only women knew how to sew.”

Henry chuckled, Minette sliding her round glasses back up her nose. 

“You mother can sew, she’s just not as advanced as me.”

”But the girls in my class say that men don’t sew. They go out and work and things like that, while women stay inside and repair the clothing and stuff.”

Henry leaned back in his chair, chewing on the end of the pen. His daughter shot him the same look Linda did when he chewed pens and he removed it.

”Well, do you want to believe that only women sew?”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to stay at home and sew. I want to make music.”

”Then make music and I’ll stay at home and sew.”

And with that, Henry leaned back over his letter and continued to write while his daughter went back to playing with her doll.

* * *

 

Minette examined the doll. It was a bit more beaten, one of the buttons coming loose. A miscellaneous stain (most likely tea) was on her dress. Stitches were coming undone, stuffing coming out. She got up and crept into her mothers bedroom. After a bit of searching, she plucked some string and a needle from the box and scurried back to her bedroom. Doing her best to slide the thread through the needle, she stuck the sharp point through the delicate fabric. Over and over and over. She tied a rough knot and stared at the arm. Stuffing still came out of large holes, strings criss crossing in an organised fashion. She sighed, pushing her sliding glasses back up her nose once more. _C’mon Minette. What would dad tell you? That you should believe in yourself, that you tried your best and you have talents other than sewing.......And then he would take the doll and show you how to do it. If he were here. But he isn’t._

_........_

_I guess I should learn how to sew then._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knock, knock.  
> Who’s there?  
> Parental abandonment and gender stereotypes.  
> ....Oh


	2. The Voice Of An Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas hated everything about this place.
> 
> Well....almost everything....

Thomas hated everything about this place. The pipes, Wally, the noises. It was all absolutely unbearable. He was thinking about resigning. Everything here was awful. Well....almost everything. Because of Joey’s constant need for perfection, Allison Pendle spent hours just rehearsing her songs. Thomas liked to to listen to her voice. It was soothing. He actually looked forward to fixing pipes in the music department just so he could hear her. She truly sounded like an angel. Every time there was a leak down there, he would go. People had begun to notice. But he just liked her voice so much. He had even begun humming it to himself. It was like it was wired into his mind. He had spoken to Allison a few times. Most of the time she just asked for directions. Other times it was just friendly conversations. Thomas didn’t quite know why, but just talking to her made him feel better. He had no idea why. Then there was a day when Allison stopped singing. And then a week. And then two. Suddenly everything was awful again. Thomas still went down to the music department with the hope that she would be singing. But she never did. Thomas felt this strange empty feeling. He had this longing to hear her voice. Then there was a day when Thomas just couldn’t do anything. He was standing in front of a leaking pipe, trying to get himself to fix it. But he just couldn’t. The actions were there, his mind knew what to do, but he just couldn’t connect it to his hands. He closed his eyes to try and focus. _If only I could hear her sing-No. No you don’t need to hear her sing. You’re The Head Of Engineering, you can do it._ It still wouldn’t come. Thomas stood there for a few more minutes. He took a deep breath and began to sing.

“I’m just a lonely angel.”

The words were just a whisper, barely heard. He searched for next lyric.

”Sitting here on a shelf.”

He opened his eyes and screwed a bolt shut. 

“At times it seemed, if I just dreamed, I wouldn’t be by myself.”

The works contiuned to come from his mouth as he fixed up the pipe. Bolts were tightened, screws repaired, a few holes fixed up. Thomas smiled to himself. By now he wasn’t murmuring to himself. He was singing. Thomas had never really taken much joy in singing. But this time it filled him with this strange feeling. It wasn’t really happiness. It was better. 

“And when I fall it’s into your arms. I never could resist all of your charms. You devil!”

He wasn’t even fixing the pipe any more. By now he was just letting the words stream from his mouth. 

“Brush off my halo hadn’t try out my wings! I’m just your puppet when you tug on my strings! I’ll be your angel! And fly straight into...your...heart.”

A voice had joined into the song. He looked over his shoulder to see a woman standing in the doorframe, singing as well.

”I’ll be your angel. And fly straight into your heart!”

She looked at him, almost as if she was expecting something something from him. Thomas looked about.

”Sha boop de boop boop she bee doo bow..?”

Allison gave him a little clap, a big smile on her face. Thomas felt his face grow a little warm. Even though he wasn’t singing, that strange feeling was still there. Allison walked towards him as he checked to see if there was anyone else.

”Don’t worry, nobody else saw. That was brilliant singing Mr Connor.”

”Uh, sure. Look, I have some work I need to get back to...”

He turned to leave, only to have Allison move closer.

”Where did you learn the lyrics from?”

”I just found out about them. There are music sheets scattered everywhere.”

Allison raised an eyebrow at him. They walked for a few more minutes in silence. Thomas attempted to move away from her multiple times but she just moved even closer. That nice feeling was still there, despite how uncomfortable he felt. It was boiling in his chest and throat. Allison moved even closer.

”Ok, look, what do you want?”, Thomas asked.

”To know why you’ve been listening to me sing.”

Thomas stared at her in shock, “What?”

”You listen to me singing. Wally told me. Sammy knows too, and Susie and Jack. I’m pretty sure half the band have noticed by now.”

Thomas’s entire body had gone rigid. _How many people have noticed? Was I really that obvious?_

“To answer your question, I just....like to hear you sing. You have a very nice voice.”

Allison stared at him for a few seconds before smiling.

”I’m going to have to sing with Sammy tomorrow. I’d like someone to help me practice. Could you meet me in the pool room at 3 O’Clock tomorrow?”

”Yes.”, The words spilt from his mouth before he could stop to think about them.

”Great. I’ll make some blueberry muffins!”

She walked away from him. Thomas’s mind registered sonething and he said.

”Wait, how did you know that I liked blueberry muffins.”

Allison stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Her face went slightly red as she tried to come up with an answer.

”Oh, well, I just...do. I, um, learnt it from....Wally! Y’know how much he likes to talk about food!”, There was an awkward silence, “Anyway see you tomorrow.”

And she turned and ran out. Thomas stared at the spot she once occupied. After a while, he turned around and walked out of the room, unaware of the stupid smile one his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Randomly decided to write some Thomas/Allison shizz because why not?


	3. Feels Like Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry hasn’t come home and Linda is worried.

Linda stared at the clock.

2 hours ago. He was supposed to be home 2 hours ago.

She glanced at the dinner she had made. It had gone cold by now. It was Henry’s favourite. Why wasn’t he home.

She glanced at the phone. _No. No it isn’t that bad. He’s just....late. Really really late. He lost track of time and now he’s late._

She went back to watching the clock.

She got up to make coffee. She sat back down. The coffee was hot, but she needed something else to focus on.

3 hours.

Her mouth was screaming in pain from downing a cup of hot coffee. She got a glass of cold water. Then a glass of milk, which worked much better.

She sat down once more.

4 hours.

Time was going by fast. It was odd. Every hour felt like forever.

She began to nibble at her nails.

Minette came down the stairs. She was worried. Linda was too. But she had to be strong, for her. She comforted her, but half the time it almost seemed like she was comforting herself.

She carried a drowsy Minette up to bed and sang her a lullaby. She watched her sleeping child for a bit. She was so peaceful. Strange. Linda was on edge.

She went back downstairs.

5 hours.

She bit her nails more frantically. _Maybe he just figured that it would be useless to come back at this time so he slept at Joey’s. Yeah. That works. But wouldn’t he call me?_ **Wouldn’t he?**

Linda bit the wrong spot and saw blood dripping from her finger. She went to get a plaster.

She looked at the clock once more.

Her heart dropped. Midnight.

It was midnight.

Linda looked at the phone. She walked over slowly. Reaching out a shaking hand she picked up the phone. She dialled a few numbers.

”Hello, Police, What do you need?”

And she broke into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Linda man. Just poor Linda.


	4. A Sort Of Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Susie’s first day at the studio and she meets an....interesting man.

Susie sat, patiently waiting in the first room. She’s had arrived and wandered about for a bit. Eventually an animator had come and provided her a chair to sit in. A blank projector sat nearby, light beaming out of it. A cutout was staring at her as well. It was unnerving. She could hear someone shouting in the distance. She wondered what they were yelling about. Yet, she was still ecstatic. _This is my first proper job. My first proper job!_ She had moved from place to place beforehand but at long last she had a stable job. She heard someone approaching and brushed herself off a bit, adjusted her hair and applied a quick layer of lipstick. The face of Mr Drew peered around the corner. He gave her a big smile.

”Miss Campbell! How are you today?”

”Oh, I’m doing great.”, She said, accepting his extended hand a bit too vigorously.

”Good. Now, I’ll have to take you to where you’ll be working won’t I?”

She walked alongside Joey, taking in the sights and sounds. For how big the place was, stretching deep beneath the ground, there seemed to be few people working here’s. Of course this was just the first floor. There were a lot of pipes built into the walls. They appeared to be filled, or stained, with ink. _I think I heard about this. It’s the Ink Machine, isn’t it? A great big project Mr Drew's working on._ They were all stationary. Drew noticed her puzzled look.

”Oh, that’s for my Ink Machine Miss Campbell. Currently immobile because of renovations. Getting a bigger better version in.”

They reached a lift and stepped inside. A rather grumpy looking man in a fedora walked past. He shot Susie a sceptical look as the elevator doors closed. They went down and down. The elevator was rather small, squeezing Mr Drew and Susie rather close together. _Must be doing it on a cheap budget,_ She though as they stepped out into a rather small area. _Can’t blame them. Must be pouring a lot of money into that Machine._ They made their way through many more rooms. They eventually reached a room with a glass window. It was dirty so she couldn’t properly see the man hunched over his desk. 

”I’m just going to get Mr Lawrence outside.”, Mr Drew told her before vanishing through the door.

Susie looked around for a bit. There was a nearby door labelled as the Janitors. Apart from that there wasn’t much else. Curiosity eventually got the better of her as she pressed her ear close to the door to listen. The two men seemed to be arguing about something.

_“Mr Drew we do not need voice acting!”_

_”Come on Sammy, it adds a bit of flavour to the cartoons, a bit of colour.”_

_”We’re working on a tight enough budget already Mr Drew, I don’t need you going about and getting more things we don’t need!”_

_”Give her a shot Sammy.”_

_”.....Alright. Fine. I’ll listen to her.”_

_”You made the right desicion. Trust me, you’ll love her.”_

The door opened. Susie looked up at Joey. He gave her another smile before stepping aside to reveal a second man. 

“Miss Campbell, meet Mr Lawrence.”

Susie looked at him. He was fairly disinterested in her, his chocolate brown eyes looking elsewhere. His arms were crossed and he had faint shadows under his eyes. His hair was ever so slightly messy, yet there was something about him that looked good. _Really_ good. He looked back at her. For a second, Susie swore she glimpsed something in his eyes. They returned to their tired state once more. He looked at his boss and back at her once again.

”Hello Miss Campbell.”

”Susie.”, She answered, extending a hand.

He stared at it for a bit before shaking it. Mr Drew smiled and left, not even saying goodbye. The two stood in silence for a bit. Eventually, Sammy walked inside, Susie following behind. He pulled up a chair and looked through his sheets upon sheets of music. He handed Susie one as she dragged a chair for herself forward.

”Sing this. You can follow the notes below.”

Susie looked at the lyrics and began to sing. It was a nice song, from the perspective of some Snowman or someone Christmas related. When she finished she looked at him, expecting an answer. He looked completely taken a back.

“You have a magnificent singing voice Susie.”, He managed to say.

”Thank you very much Mr Lawrence.”

”Please.”, He scribbled something down on some paper, “Call me Sammy.”

Susie nodded, pleased with herself. Sammy pointed at a part of a song with a heavily chewed pen. 

“You skipped the vocalisation.”

Susie fiddled with her hair, “I didn’t know how I was supposed to sing it.”

He didn’t roll his eyes or sigh. He glanced at his sheets once more and muttered something about ‘Getting a new fiddle bow’ before standing up.

”I’ll get an instrument”, He told her before leaving the room.

Susie watched him go through the filthy window. She wondered how his window could be that dirty with a janitor’s closet right beside him. She let out a sigh and fiddled with her hair again. She started to worry. She was often told she worried too much about what other people thought. She couldn’t help it, she just found herself thinking about others. Susie pulled out a small mirror from her pocket and examined herself. All that fiddling had ruined her hair. She began to sweep it back over her ears. _I should really cut this some day._ She told herself as she put the mirror away. _Few people have hair this long._ She heard footsteps approaching and the door opened. She couldn’t contain her laughter upon realising which instrument he was holding.

”Is that a banjo?”, She exclaimed before silencing herself.

”Yes. It is.”, He replied tuning it, “This piece was meant for a violin but unfortunately SOMEONE”, He shot a dirty look at the janitors closet, “Decided it would be a good tool to use to retrieve their keys from the ceiling.”

”Is that why you’re windows are so dirty? Because the janitor doesn’t want to clean them?”

Sammy raised an eyebrow. He looked over his window and realisation dawned on him.

”Oh. I didn’t actually realise how dirty it was until now. I’ll make Franks clean it.”

He started to play the song on his banjo. Susie followed, Sammy stopping her a few times to direct her on the vocalisation. They didn’t it a few times over before Sammy finally put down his banjo, strings marks embedded in his fingers.

”Perfect.”, He said with an air of satisfaction.

He scribbled down more things on a sheet of paper before looking up at Susie with a smile.

”I look forward to working with you in the future Susie.”

”Me too.”, She answered a bit too quickly.

She got up and left the room, glancing back a few times. There was a wide smile in her face as she practically skipped into the lift and pressed the button for the top floor. The future was looking bright and Susie couldn’t wait for her next chance to sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This definitely won’t end badly for both of them!


	5. Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Sammy really knows is now. But he has the faintest memories of a before.

Sammy was bad at remembering. He always knew that. From the moment he woke up blank to now, and probably forever. But there were some things which were familiar. He stayed in the music department because he knew it well. It was also one of the safest places. The Angel barely came here,The Butcher Gang remained at a distance and many others were trapped in certain locations. Familiar objects were littered about the Department. He liked to collect them. One day, when he was placing down newly collected items, he noticed something in the corner. A chest, half submerged in ink. He lifted it out and placed it on a stained chair. The lid creaked open. Inside was quite the array of objects. Various lyrics, two hats, a coffee mug with a phrase on it, a mangled photograph of what looked like two men and a large picture. It was held in a cracked frame, most of it ruined. Various people stood in rows, some smiling others staring blankly. Some scowled and others looked away. Sammy examined it for a while. He knew most of these people. Like the man with the orange beanie, and the one with a bowler hat, it was on the tip of his tounge. One in particular caught his interest. A smiling woman with bright eyes and bright orange hair. It was like fire burning down her back. This photo held some of the only colour in the entire studio. And the lady..something about her was just so entrancing. He wanted to see her without the box. He took the photo from it’s cracked frame and oh so carefully, tore her away from the rest of the photograph. He put the two separate halves left over inside. Pulling the mangled photo from it’s frame he placed the lady inside. Satisfied, he waded over to his table and placed it on top. The box was left underneath. He pulled up a chair and stared for a bit longer. He knew her face so well. It was almost real. If only he could rember her name....For the first time in what felt like years, he took off his mask. He didn’t know why. He stared at his faint reflection. He didn’t have any eyes, he didn’t have a mouth. But it felt like he did. It felt like someone had just stretched ink over his eyes and his mouth, preventing them from being seen. _Why do all those people have eyes and a mouth? Is this a punishment for something?_ He touched his face. It was so cold, so blank so... _unreal._ He put his hand down and placed the mask back on. These people were happy. They were colourful. They had hair. Especially her. She had such wonderful hair. _Why did she have to cut her hair short?_ The thought was gone as soon as it came, even though Sammy tried to hold it. _She doesn’t have short hair! When did she cut her hair? Tell me!_ There was no answer. He looked at her once more. For once, her smile held an answer.

_Susie._

“Her name was Susie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember those days  
> When the banjo played  
> Angels sang  
> Demons ran  
> Away
> 
> Look at these days  
> The ink devil plays  
> With our souls  
> And our goals  
> Pain
> 
> Look to those days  
> When we may escape  
> This hell  
> How swell  
> But it’s just a dream


	6. Come True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These dreams are becoming more frequent

Joey opened his eyes. His entire body was covered in sweat and his right leg ached. He sat up, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Picking up his watch from the bedside table, he squinted to read the tiny hands. _3:40 am._ He laid it back down and slipped out of bed. He may as well get a drink. Shuffling along in worn and old slippers, he made his way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge door, he pulled out a bottle of alchohol and grabbed a stray glass. Turning on a light, he sat down at the table. The liquid poured into the jar. Just hearing that sound made him think back to the machine’s nozzle. And her screams-He shut that thought out like he had done so for the past 20 Years. The dream was fuzzy in his mind yet clear as day. He was dreaming about the studio again. He sipped some of his drink. Poor Allison seemed to be fighting for her life. _She probably doesn’t even call herself Allison anymore. Now that identities been stripped from her._ Joey sipped the cold liquid once more. He let out a yawn. The clock read 3:45 am now. He drank more and let out another yawn. He didn’t remember being this tired 5 minutes ago. Sleep tugged at his eyes unlike it ever had before. _I just need to finish this glass. It would be...a waste not to._ Another yawn. His limbs were feeling tired now. _Why do I....feel....so....tired...?....._

* * *

 

Joey woke with a start. Light mercilessly stared into his eyes, artificial and natural. An empty glass lay sideways on the table, his drink spilt across the wood. He looked around wildly and stumbled out of his chair. His drawing desk lay in the position it had always been in. He snatched the last sheet of paper from it, a pen as well, sitting down. His pen started to work furiously, seemingly with a mind of it’s own. It was terrifying. He’d only experienced this 3 times before and that was when somebody...nevermind. After about half an hour of furiously scribbling the pen dropped from his aching hand. He cradled it for a bit before looking up at his picture. His eyes widened. A strange figure was looking over his shoulder in what looked like shock. He wore a jacket over a simple shirt. His eyes were like all the others, a pale yellow. His black hair seemed to shape something like horns at the top. But he recognised the face, even without the glasses. _Henry._ He paced around the room, mind racing. _But Henry isn’t dead, is he? He didn’t go to the studio, he wouldn’t go back there freely. So if he isn’t dead, why did I dream of him? Especially like that. Unless...._ He snapped his fingers. _It was telling me something! He looks like Bendy in that picture, a perfect Bendy, good. That can only happen in the studio. A perfect Bendy...._ Joey looked at a nearby piece of paper. It was small. Small enough to be a letter. He picked up the pen once more and sat down. He began to write.

**Dear Henry.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was quite lazy but I’m tired and it’s 10 O’Clock so...


	7. Rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry’s tired of this place.

**Turn back.** My mind always screams at me to turn back. But I can’t. The door never opens.  **I’m sorry buddy.** Every time I have to look at his posters, see his happy face. He was always happy. Even when he was scared. Who was he once? I don’t think I’ll ever know.  **Don’t turn on the machine** or you’ll suffer the same fate as everyone else. I know I’m not even human anymore. But there’s nothing I can do. I’m just so f**king tired. **Joey Drew** is  **Nothing.** This studio is nothing. I am nothing.  **He was born here** among the pain and the tears. Amongst hours upon hours of work. They seemed to never end. But this won’t end. Ever. There’s **Death in every direction** I turn. Empty chests and the fading corpses and everything is just dead. Something I noticed after a bit is that there is no dust here. You would think after all these years there would be but no. And there are no spiders either, despite the webs. Makes you wonder what happened to them.  **Not all dreams come true.** Dreams are just lies here. No such thing as dreams.  **There never was a choice** here. No one asked to get thrown into the machine. No one asked for any of this. Yet it happened anyway. I used to whisper  **Don’t be scared** to myself. By now, nothing startles me anymore. There are a few things that just make me remember previous horrors, but no new fear. Just reused.  **She’s heartless.** Absolutely heartless. I knew Susie oh so briefly. A week. But she had so much hope. So much passion. That angel isn’t Susie. Susie’s long dead. Everyone here is dead.  **I always fall** over and over in circles. Nothing changes. Different paths. Tommy gun. Recordings. Meaningless sh**. And it’s all because  **Joey lied to us.**

 

**Say Hello To Sammy.**

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone give this man a break.


	8. Get Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I need to get away from her

My footsteps pound on the ground, the studio’s blood spraying upon impact with my feet. I can’t let her catch me. Not again. The halls long, too long. I feel a knot tightening in my chest. She’s calling out to me, screaming in rage. I can only run. Run as far as I can abd hope for the best. I jump over a pipe and stumble upon landing, but I don’t stop running. I swing around the corner and bump into the wall. Everything’s blurry but her screech snaps my sight into focus. I keep going, heart pounding in my chest. I can’t let her catch me. I can’t let her catch me. I can’t let her-

I don’t know where I am. I trip over something in the dark and smack my head. There’s a turning of gears and the walls are pumping out steam. I get up, whirling about in the darkness, trying to get my bearings. But I can’t. All the spinning and stumbling is making my head hurt and my heart’s beating faster and faster. I just want to rest. I just want to stop and sleep. Can I give up? I give up. I give up. I give up... **I can’t. I’m so close to the safe house.** What safe house? It’s a good place, I know that much. I run forward, not paying attention to where I’m going. I should’ve.

_Idiot._

My heart freezes upon her icy touch. I’m staring into her hollow eyes, a feeling of dread growing within me. She smiles with a mutilated mouth, only half of the original remaining. 

**“Hello there old friend. Did you really think you could get away?”**

She forces me to the ground, pinning me by the chest. She raises her axe, the blunt end positioned to damage. 

She put on a voice of fake pity, **“Oh, don’t be upset. After all,** _you’ll make me an Angel!_ **Isn’t that a nice thought? Now rest little wolf.”** , she leans in close, her chuckle filling my ears, **“And in the morning you’ll be dead.”**

Something made contact with my skull and forced me into sleep, her laugh still echoing inside my ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cause’ I haven’t already established how evil Alice is yet


	9. Fix Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beauty is pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Body horror/disturbing imagery here people so turn back if you do not wish to see that.

~~~~Joey watched the creature wiggle and squirm as he shoved a piece of wood into it’s lip. It’s head tugged against his hands grip and it’s body writhed on the table. Joey let out a fustrated sound as the wood broke. He snatched another piece and tried once more.

”Just. Stop. Moving!”

Finally the task was done, despite the creatures desperate attempts to avoid it. Joey undid it’s bonds, revealing a circle painted on the table. He grabbed it by it’s wooden neck before it could escape and threw it back into it’s cage.

 **“Yar har....it’s....cold”** , it rasped with what remained of it’s tounge.

Joey rolled his eyes and swept the pieces of wood into a bin. He took what he had stolen from the revolting sailor and put it away. He knew there were better options for that specific body part but he just wanted the thing to shut up. Before it had said things like ‘It’s a monster!’ (Normally upon his approach) and ‘I’m so cold’ and some other pirate nonsense. _The spider would’ve been a better option._ He took the cage and dragged it back to where it belonged. With the other monsters. He had a lot of cages, too many. Even the person he’d purchased them from was suspicious of him. He hooked it up where it belonged despite it’s feeble complaints.

”Oh shut up, your tounge will regrow eventually.”

**“He not like you.”**

He shot a piercing glare at the creature in the cage nearby. A mouth clicked and clacked atop it’s head, one very human eye angry and the other cartoon one staring blankly at everything. It was curled up in the corner of it’s cage, two arms wrapped around it’s legs, the heavy mechanical one resting on the floor. He originally had two arms on that side but one suffered a similar fate to the other’s tounge. Then he’d hacked up the other one to make that arm work. 

**“No one like you. You monster.”**

“You’re a monster.”, He hissed at the cage before walking away.

He went to a smaller room nearby. The space was filled by a large pipe. He turned the valve, revealing a bubbling black substance and pulled a lever. A creature leapt up from the depths, groaning as if in great pain. He wouldn’t be suprised with the state of it’s body. Reaching out, grimacing at how it seemed to pulse, he grabbed a lump that lay atop it’s back and ripped it off. It let out a pitiful cry before disappearing into the dark once more. He sealed up the pipe and made his way to the elevator, going up a few levels before stepping out. He placed the ink lump into a small box with a flap and awaited a response. Soon enough, the doors creaked open. Stepping through he made his way across the unsturdy planks he’d placed above the surface of the foul writhing liquid. Finally he reached a sturdy floor. Picking up his pace he walked into a room. A surgery table and a control panel were placed on some sort of stage, various objects littered around the room. Sitting atop one of the barrells was a disturbing figure. She had skin the same colour as the world around her, hair as black as ink from which protruded a pair of sharp horns. A halo was balanced between them a wound bleeding a trail of ink was visible on her neck. A pair of horribly mismatched eyes stared at him, not made for the sockets they inhabited. The edge of her face slightly mangled, her mouth perfectly fine apart from the edges only being strings of flesh. Ink dripped from the parts of her arm that were stitched on, not long enough for her body. However, she smiled at the man like nothing was wrong. He didn’t smile back.

”Now Alice, I have some great news.”

She titled her head as if asking for him to continue, “I have acquired a tounge for you. But it’s too risky to give it to you now. But, I have a plan.”

She nodded and smiled wider, even though it was evident it hurt.

”I have arranged for you to go through the machine a second time so that you may be properly fixed with those body parts you’ve acquired. You will emerge completely fixed if this works. Well, apart from that neck, we still need to do something about that.”

She let out a sad sigh and got off her barrel, “Now fix yourself up with some of that thick ink.”, He turned away as she got out a syringe, “Tommorrows a big day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it is unclear, Joey tried to repair her with bits and pieces from the butcher gang, and also thick ink to solve that whole messed up face part.
> 
> Anyway, Joey is 10/10 evil, bye.


	10. The Dark Puddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Joey goes down, he’s taking the whole studio with him.
> 
> WARNING: DISTURBING SPOOKS BE AHEAD SO BE WARY TRAVELLER

Joey Drew was crouched in a room. He had heavy shadows beneath his eyes an an evil glint within them.. He sat on top of what could only be described as a circle filled to the bursting with symbols. It was made out of chalk, unlike the one next to it. The other was made completely out of ink, which Joey was busy thoroughly cleaning off his fingers. Candles were layed out around it, a pair of items within. Blueprints for a machine and a writhing clump of ink. An inhuman smile split his face as he placed one last thing one top. A notebook filled to the bursting with bits and pieces of his cartoons. He leaned in close and whispered something only he could understand and leaned back. The ink vanished, seeping through the floorboards and blueprints. He sat in his circle and patiently waited for it to happen.

* * *

Jack was on the first floor helping the Animators pack up their stuff. They were rushing to and fro, trying to pack up their stuff as quickly as possible. Jack didn’t blame them. He also wanted to get out of this dump as quickly as possible. He picked up an empty Inkwell and debated wether or not to pack it. He noticed the skull and decided it was better to leave it here. Someone rushed past him, kicking the recently dropped Inkwell into a wall. It got caught in some cobwebs, trapping it in a dark corner.

“Jack”, He looked up at his companions question, “Do you think I should take this reel?”

His companion was a small girl called Willow. Her eyes were almost completely covered by a fringe, loose clothes hanging around her frail form.

“It’s just that, despite how awful this place is, I o enjoy the cartoons. It would be shame if they were just left to rot.”

Jack pondered this for a moment, “Take it. May be an interesting conversation starter someday.”

She smiled at him and gently placed it in the box. She checked to see if there was anything else to place inside and, with a lot of difficulty, she lifted up a cardboard box onto a pile. 

“Alright, that’s the last one.”

Jack placed a small pen into the box, “Now it is.”

All the other Animators were clearly finished, chatting to one another about what they’d do outside the studio.

”I’m going to help out at a relative’s store until I can find suitable work.”, He overheard one saying.

”I’ve already applied for that new studio, what was it, Archgate films? I’ve heard that Allison’s working there.”

“Alright, I’d say it’s time to go.”, Jack told the rest, “You guys start to move out, I’ll get my stuff.”

He surveyed the room a final time as the Animators began to move their stuff. With a happy smile on his face, he left them to gather their things. The future was looking bright. Jack stumbled as an overwhelming wave of nausea overcame him. Propping up against a wall, he covered his mouth with a hand as his vision went blurry. Just as quickly as it had happened, it stopped. Jack squinted and shook his head. _Ugh, what was that? Nevermind. Must be all those ink fumes getting to me._ Down the hall he found the elevator and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. _Finally we’re getting out of this place._ He thought to himself as he pressed the button for the music department. _This studio was about to drive me mad, What with Sammy being gone and everything. He had the right idea resigning. I can’t stand this place any longer either._ The elevator jerked before going downward. Just as the floor vanished from view, something wiped the smile off his face. A bloodcurdling scream sounded in his ears. He recognised the voice. _Sarah!_ He looked around in panic, adrenaline kicking in. He pressed the button for the first floor as more screams began to sound. They weren’t screams of fear anymore. They were screams of pain. _Come on! Come on! I need to help them, what’s happening up there?_ Jack realised the screams weren’t fading. New layers were joining in, one after the other. The walls creaked and groaned like something was moving through them. Every person on every floor was screaming. Jack saw the Music Department coming into view and backed up against the elevator panel. _Oh god, oh please, no._ It stopped, the door in front of him. He desperately pressed the button, distant screams echoing. _Work! Work please, I can’t be stuck here!!!_ After a minute of desperate trying, Jack gave in and stepped out. He stood in the vault, the screams seemingly gone. He looked about as he left the room and went into the labyrinth of corridors. _There’s no bodies, or blood. There’s nothing. Why was everyone screaming? Nothing seems to be wrong._ Jack could feel a ball of overwhelming dread building inside him. He emerged into the area with the speakers. There was no sign of a catastrophe here either. Going through to the big empty room he was greeted by rows upon rows of leaking pipes. The floor was slowly being submerged in a layer of ink. Dodging between puddles, accidentally stepping in a few, he reached the door. He rubbed his hands together and breathed on them. _Why am I so cold?_ He opened the door. The lights were on the fritz, the power clearly draining. And it was making the strangest noise too-

Jack froze halfway up the stairwell. It wasn’t the lights. Boxes lay on the floor, their contents spilling out like blood. He felt like throwing up at the scene before him but his throat was too tight to do so. Laying on the ground were the bodies of half the music department. He make out some of their faces from the ink covering their bodies. Saffron, Alex, Rouge, Chris. One of the bodies may have been Harrison but he coudn’t he sure. Ink covered their bodies like a web, extending from every dark puddle. It leaked out of their mouths as they made soft gurgling sounds. Because they were breathing. 

T̛͘͡H͢҉Ę̷͝Ý̶̵̧͡W̷͜E̡͢R̨͠E̷̡̨͢S̴͘̕͡Ţ̷͘͟͟I̶̡̨L̷̡L̷͘̕͞A̷̡̨L͡͏̨́Í̸͟҉V͘̕͏È̕͝.

Jack covered his mouth in an attempt to not scream. _Is this what happened to Sarah, to the Animators? A-and everyone else, the Mechanics and Sound Design and the Storyboarders-_ He felt tears growing at the edge of his vision. He looked at the door behind him. The leaks would’ve completely covered the floor by now, and if the bodies were any indication, the ink did this. He looked about. There wasn’t anyway out. He was stuck. _I could’ve gotten out if I hadn’t helped those Animators. It doesn’t matter now anyway. They’re already dead._ An idea sparked in his mind. _The pump in Sammy’s office! If I press it I could open a window to escape!_ He almost laughed with relief. But he wouldn’t let himself. Not in front of this massacre. Slowly and carefully he climbed up the stairs, a single creak causing the corpses to twitch. _I should be very quiet then._ Making his way past the anonymous person, he noticed that the ink was slowly spreading further other their bodies. He felt bile rise in his throat but swallowed it. Another body lay before him. It was a mechanic, he remembered his name as Martin, lying on the floor. He was deathly pale, only an eye peering out from the web. _Not that he didn’t deserve it. He was a complete jerk._ He looked at him a second time once past. _Actually, I don’t think even he deserves that fate._ His blood went stone cold. He looked down to see his foot positioned atop some black hair that seemed like it had never been brushed. He moved his eyes forward, trying to stop himself from shaking. He met with Elsa’s empty ones. He felt something grab his ankle. Slowly, afraid of what he would see, he looked down. A freezing cold inkstained hand gripped it. There was a loud gurgle from her mouth. Jack couldn’t stop his throat from reflexively emptying his stomach of his lunch. He saw the other bodies moving, head turning to stare blankly at him. Jack felt something creeping up his leg and screamed, tearing himself away from Elsa’s grasp. The bodies began to drag themselves across the floor, growing closer and closer, ink bleeding from their noses as well. Jack stumbled away, colliding with a wall and running even faster. He didn’t know where he was going until he almost ran straight into a massive pool of black ink. His workplace was now submerged in the foul substance. He looked back up stairs. The things were on their feet, no ankles, shoes having dissapeared into the puddles. They were shambling towards him from the top of the stairs. He turned and stared at the black pit before him. The pipe was nearby. It had never emptied sewage or ink, it was completely safe. He had a slim chance of climbing up it to the surface, or just hiding there until the creatures settled down. They going down the stairs, some falling over as their legs ceased to exist. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jack positioned himself to jump. He could make it. It would only be 5 seconds in the ink, quick enough to escape alive. Looking back one last time, Jack took a leap of faith. Misplaced faith.

1 second. Getting his bearings.

2 seconds. Ink creeping up his legs as he desperately waded towards the pipe.

3 seconds. Dragging him down into the black mass, legs ceasing to function.

4 seconds. Falling over, swallowing ink, mind numbing and fading.

5 seconds. What was left of him thrashing under the surface.

6.

 

7̈͋̽ͬ̂ͥͭ

8́̀͞

9̶̳͇̪̹͎̰͎͈̻̕

 

A few bubbles reached the surface before vanishing.

 

G̣͙͍̿ͨ͒͋̐ͯͫ͌o̴͔̙̬͚̖̥͙̫ͣ̏̚̕n͙̖̻͚̞ͤ́́̕ͅêͫ̌ͭͫ͢͟҉͕̜͓̝

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY, NOTHING SCREAMS CHRISTMAS SPIRIT LIKE MASS DEATH.
> 
> Anyway, creation of Searchers and Lost Ones and Swollen things. 
> 
> .....
> 
> Joey you absolute mother-


	11. Just A Little Experiment.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could go wrong?

**Entry 1, 1936**

After my experiment with Miss Campbell, we managed to create a new kind of ink. It has been named ‘Thick Ink’ based on it’s texture and the fact it comes in clumps. It seems to be able to repair her skin, which was incredibly mutilated. It made me ask the question-‘What effects does ink have on normal humans?’. I have decided to test the effects through different scenarios. Though some Gent people warned me not to, I am going forward without their permission. After all, it’s just a small experiment. What could go wrong?

* * *

 

**Entry 2, 1936**

The experiment has begun. I have decided not to do anything to the Gent Workers, as they are naturally exposed to Normal Ink and it would raise suspicion in my business partners. The first test is putting a drop of ink into different workers drinks. Normal Ink has been added to Grant Cohen’s coffee. It has been placed unknowingly in an assistants, Lavender (Also works in R&D), hands. She makes his coffee everyday, 3 times a day. Thick Ink has been added to Sammy Lawrence’s coffee. He keeps his own supply of coffee which I have intercepted. A drop of Invisible Ink was placed in Allison Pendle’s tea, but it appeared to have no effect on her so I cut it off. Cohen and Lawrence’s dosages continue.

* * *

 

**Entry 3, 1936**

I have begun the second test. I filled 3 syringes a quarter of the way with the 3 different inks and then injected them into unsuspecting people. I invited them to different areas where a beverage they were known to like was left. It was filled with a sleeping drug, putting all of them to rest. I injected Shawn Flynn with Thick Ink, Bertrum Piedmont with Normal Ink and Lacie Benton with Invisble Ink. I then placed all 3 in the infirmary and came up with a cover story. There have been no noticeable sideffects yet. Mr Cohen and Mr Lawrence’s dosages have been increased to 3 drops.

* * *

 

**Entry 4, 1936**

Finally, I have results. Mr Cohen has been working harder than ever and seems unusually happy. Lavender came to me the other day saying that she expressed concern over his recent actions. Apparently he has been locking himself in his office later and later. He has also started smiling almost constantly, the only people able snap him out of his mania being Shawn and Murray. Once he does, he becomes incredibly tired, often falling asleep. Mr Lawrence has been going to emotional extremes. He got so angry he broke a banjo, followed by bawling his eyes out in his sanctuary for almost an hour, followed by quiet laughter. He then comes out completely normal. He is also forgetting more and more things. Both are interesting. Dosages have increased to 4 drops.

* * *

 

 **Entry 5, 1936**  

Test 3. For one day I tainted water supplies with a small amount of ink. Animators were given Thick Ink, R&D invisble ink and The Musicans Normal Ink. Jack Fain spent the day with the Animators however resulting in him getting a thick ink dosage. Norman Polk only drank R&D’s water, almost as if he knew that the others had unsavoury sideffects. I will investigate his knowledge on my experiments later. It has been observed that Miss Benton has become rather sad and apathetic, while Mr Piedmont has become absolutely dedicated to his work. This has created a divide between them. Mr Flynn has been experiencing the emotional swings Mr Lawrence has, but on a much lower level. He curses wildly when mad, sheds a few tears afterward and then continues as normal. Murray Hill has begun dedicating all his time to caring for his friends. He has stared to not eat his own lunch. To keep him fit for repair work I will have to force him to eat sometime soon. 

* * *

 

**Entry 6, 1936**

I have observed patterns in the ink. The departments have been effected and sure enough they hold strong. The Musicians are becoming increasingly isolated but not work focused. They have a knack for gossiping which has been taken to the next level. They have almost become a small swarm of Norman Polk’s, watching people, listening to their conversations. Luckily they stay in their departement, so as long as I keep away my sercrets remain safe. The Animators bicker and squabble about everything, Gent Workers are becoming completely absorbed into work (The only exceptions being Thomas, Who cleans his hands regularly, and Wally) And R&D have become incredibly downtrodden and sad. Miss Pendle has also lost the tiniest bit of care for her work, often drifting about not doing much. Jack becomes annoyed at the smallest sounds before spending about a minute apologising.

Normal Ink seems to cause obsessions of some sort. Grant, Bertrum and The Gent Workers have become dedicated to their work, Murray to his friends and The Musicians to their gossip. Thick Ink seems to cause extreme emotions based off those most frequently expressed by people affected, while Invisible Ink almost nullifies them. I feel like I shouldn’t continue this experiment but it is too late to go back. **I must** see this through to the end.

* * *

 

**Entry 7, 1936**

Things have gotten out of hand. Grant became a danger to those around him. I had to get rid of him, take him away from the studio in the hopes that he would heal. It didn’t work. I **didn’t kill** him. **The ink did. THE BLOODY INK CONSUMED HIS BODY AS SOON AS HE WAS INJURED. I WANTED HIM TO LEAVE PEACEFULLY, BUT HE JUST HAD TO DIE BECAUSE MY  L I F E  WASN’T HARD ENOUGH.**.... I need a break from **my work.**

* * *

**F̢̠̹͔ͅI̗̲̯̥̱̯̖N͎̳͝Ạ̯̥̫L̼̬̝͕̼ͅ E̯nt̵͚̪̤̩̬͈r̝̝̤ỵ͙̝̭ 1̸̩̹͍̳̭͚9̻̫̙̲͉͚3̝͝ͅ7̹̀**

 

 **H̦̳̠͝E̵̲͉̬̹’̰̖S̱̙͖ D͓̜E͕̼A̤̩͇̪̭̹̦D̪. H҉̯E̬’̦̲͇̱S̹͓ DE̛̗̩̞ͅA҉̹̹̰͍̻D̹̫̹̝̺̀ ̶͕A͍̬N̙D̢̮͎̥͎̻͚̮ ̲̙I͉T͚͎̣’͙̖͉̙̣̹̹͞S̬̬ ͕̱A̵̖̞͙͍̭͈LL̤̙̼̗̭͖̣ ̯̀M͕Y̬̟̙͟ ̗̠F̭͎͓̤̗́ͅA̼̫U̥̺̘̘L̡̠̜T̟̼ ҉͖B͚̹̠̤̟̹̜E̫̩̘̤̼͞C̠͞Á͙͍̫͙U͈̼̲̠͎̕S̤̯E͖ ̟̮I̡̫̲̖̠͕̬ ̵̯͈̺̞̜C̛̹̹̙̼A̟̺̤N̹̪’͚̼͍̹̹T ̴G͇͇̮͈E̸̤̭̙͇T̫͍͎̙ ̲̯͓O̞̱̹̰̫Ṇ̡̯E.͇ ͓̹F̢͔͔U̸̱̹̩C̩̤̫̣̩ḰỊN̬̤̗̲̲̪͟G̷̟͎͓̗.͉̰̳̟͓̟̠ ̳̕T̛͇̰̘̣̯̞H̡̟̰̳͈̼I͓͔̰N͓̳̭̫G͖͓̱.̺͕̙̙̣͚̹ ̫̫R̷̬̘̩Ị͖̰͕̹́G̘̜̙̭̜̦̙H̦͍̯̯͎̲̹T̹͈͓̥̰̰.҉̫͙̠ ͔̮̞͓̠̪͜  
** ͏̱  
̹̜̫̀ **T̵͈̺HI̴͈̬̪̜͉͓͖S͙̫ ͏̺̯͓̺̫̖̠E̴̻͙̗̻̗̭X͓P̟͙̥͔͈͕R͏E͚͇̬͚̱͝M̼̹̭E͔̱͢N̷̠̤T ͍W͙͙͖̺ͅͅA̫̬̭̗͕͈͖S̻̞̗͖͍̲̜ ͚̥̜̥̭͡A ͖̩̫ͅ ҉͔̯F̰͉͉͎̻̬̹ Ḁ ̮̗͖̬̻̤̬Ḻ̨͖ͅ ̘͉̥̬I͇̟̖̭̬͎͠ ̕U͔͖̹̣͔̙̱ ̤̤̱̱͍̞̲R͚ E͕.̷̖̹ ̀  
** ̖  
̣̪A҉̻̦L̨̫̭Ḽ̮͉̪̲͠ ̴̱̩̟̬̣̟T̕E̱̘S̭̰̩͓͞T̜̫̪͔̘̲̯ ͎͓͞S̡̲U̹̳͙͓̪̳͉B̥J̡̖̺É͔͚̤͍̞C̱̰̻̖̩̥Ṱ̘͖͞S͍̤̖͖̥̖̘ ̗̩M͈͖͈͇͡U̬̹̯͙̪͎Ṣ̨T̪ B͖̙̪̩̤͉Ę̣̗̖̙̝ ̬̺̻̦̯͕͖R̤̬̱̖̣̯I̩͘D̥̰͔̖ͅ ͉͢Ó̝͇̺F͕.̷̜̝̟ ̴͕I̼̼͕̞͈ ̡͔͙̪̮C̬̼͔͓͞A͔̼̪͍͉̺̩̕N̼’̛̜̱̲ͅȚ ̹̙̙̘̙L̯̗̱̥̩E̬̯̤̣T̖̮̯ ͇̲͉͖̲ANY̛̯̝̪͔̥O͉͟N͔E̹̺̪ ̱K͓̜N̦O͔̠W̻͖̟͚̱̭̪ ̴̬̠AB͚͔̥͙̗̲͜O̺͕̙̦̠ͅU͏̙̦̖T̟̗͍͕̝̼ ̡͚T҉̠͓̰HỊ̠̹̖Ś̜̬̳̘ͅ ̟̯̘̥O̗̮͍̻̬̘͜R̗͕͖̦ ̧̱̬̻T̳̭̜͍̣̖͈͟H͙͔̤͇͝E͖̗̜̥̞̫͟ ̛͖͍͈͍͎I̴̥͚̲̹̮ͅN̞͓̺͔̺Ḳ̷͔͙̥̫͔ ̟̞̭͓͘M̲̼̜͉A̬̙̭͉͚͈̼C̛H̳͈I̶N̜͈͚͍Ę̞͉.͏̲͓̮͉̻ ̻̦͕̼  
̪̙̻̮  
̯̦̪̥̗T̟̝̙͎͙̹͘H͕̞͕̩̟́I͎S̗͜ ̩͖̟̪P̟͉̱̭̤̙̱R̩̘̻O͈J̜̰̭͈̗E̼͉̯̙C̰̪̯͚̝̟̩T̪̞͕͙ͅ ̺̜͙̱̼W̰̬̮̖͠I̼̼̝Ḻ͚̙̥͚̀L̹͎̜̹̺̮̪ ̜B̝̜̮̖̀E̻̤͕̤̫̤͡ ̟̯͜ͅL̪E͉̟͙͔ͅF̵̺͖͇͙̗͉̥T͍͍̺̤̜̺̣ T̤͉̮̮̣O̲̪̠̯̞̹̠ ̵̪̳͉R̷͕O̷T͓̟̰͝ ҉͓̳̪̭̼͇ͅW̛̮̯̣̩H҉̣̠̥̮͇I͏͚̱͇͔̱̬̱L̬͇̯͘E̹͙͓ ̛THE͎̥̯̜͓̹ ̛IN͈̮̙̼͕̜K͏̻̱ ͏̪̜̯̫M̧̤̘̮̦̼Ạ̣̯C͈͇͇̰̝̩ͅḤ͍̞͈͓̫͈I̥̪̫N̘E̩͚̩͍͙ ͉G̭̣̘̘̭͈O̘̣̤̬͓Ę͙̝̝̫S̹ ̺̼̺Ọ̡̱̪̫̲N̴.̘̳  
̰̫͜ͅ  
̷̣̟͔̹L̸͉͚E̸̦̬̬̰̜͇T͕̹̗͍.̛̮͙͖̭̗ ̠̞͍͕͚͔̦I̸T̯͈͙̳.̴͕ ̨A̗̦̺͞L͍̯̝̦̥̱̟͢L͍̺̠͙̹.̥̺̯̠̩ͅ ҉̖

 

 

 

**B̤͙͍̲̤̺̘̜̠̬̝̠̭̆ͯ̃̏̄ͥͪ̒̍͆̌̊ͮ̾̃̿̕͜͟ͅ ̵̡̹͙̻͕̤̬̺͓̪͕̩̃͛̏ͫͣͫ̌ͧ̉̓ͤ̃̐͆̊́̍̚͠͝U̸̻̞̼͈͐ͭ̎ͫ̑̑͠ ̹͖̫̤͇̞̩̟̮̝͇͇̤̗̋̽̔́͒͗̂͐̌̕ͅR̶̨̬͔̳̤̯̳͎̞͖͔̞̥̘̪ͦ̐͊ͪ̑͑̕͟ͅ ̴̵͙̫̲̜̐͂ͬͮͬ̐̎͋ͫ̋͢N̶̵̡̬̣̭̖̺͚̠̺̭̙̰͖͌͌ͣ̊̊͗ͦ̂̔ͭͣ͝ ̛͋ͨ̑ͩ͒̒ͬͭ́̌͑̒͛ͨ̚͡҉̺̫̲̹̹̞͓̹.̴̛̪̙̣͓̖̟̪͕̤̠͓ͬ͑͋ͧ̆̉̑̄̂͌͐͊̎̀͟͠**

**̨̋ͤ͗ͪͤ̀͝͏̭̤̼̰̲̭̥̥̞͚̬**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ͑ͬ́̈ͥͥ҉I̷ͥ͑ͨ̊͐͢T̶̍W̶̉̈͛Ả̿̊ͬ̋̄́͡Y̨̋ͤ̔͆̍̏͏̢’ͥ͛̀̚͘͡Sͩ́̓̊ͮA̴̡ͧ̑̎ͬ̋͐͌Y̌̓ͫ͋͟ ̢̡ͥ̈́̏Ȩ̏ͩ̉̚͢E͋ͫ̓̋ͨ̉͌̚͞҉D̨̏͛͑̓ͭ͘Iͦ̅ͬͥ̒ͫ̿̐͡N͗͛͌͊̊̈͗͡Gͩ̓̂ͬ͒̅ͫ͢F̷̑̽̈͏͡Ąͤͧ͑́́͜Ÿ̢̓͛͝ ̔͐̇̀̾͠͝O̶̓̅F̡̾̓̈̌ͮ̈́̏ͣFͣ͂͐W̓͋͒A̷̡̒̓̄ͫ̉͑̾ͨ͜Yͫ ͫ̒̓ͫ̀͛͏̸Y͌͋̂́͑͢M̀̐ͪ͒̑͗ͩͬͪ͡͡Ąͤ̑͡Ỳ̡̔͂ͮ̋ͥ͠ ̸̸ͭ͒̊͋A̴̧͋̓ͪͦ̔T͒̒̒̍͗́E̵̴ͨ̄̑̒̃̃̾̓͢Ḩͮ̏̿ͤ̔̆̆̓Aͣ̓ͫͯ͊ͬͧ̚͢͡Yͥ̾҉͢.̢ͭͦ̇ͩͮ̽̇͛͆́ ̵ͩ͌̔ͨǑͧ̐͗̿ͨ̽ͧ͘҉W̧ͤ͊ͭ̽H̉͟͝Aͩ͏̧͞Y̢͑͆ͩͫ͛ͫͨ̿͢?̽̉̎̑


	12. Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who am I?

Boris didn’t leave the safehouse often. Often he was too afraid. He had kept away from her for this long, he didn’t want it to be ruined by a simple trip outside. He tried to entertain himself. Playing cards, cooking, drawing. He often looked through his trunk as well. It was fun uncovering these things. But no matter what he did, in the end he just felt...empty. Like he was missing something. He wondered if this was what drove the Angel. Did she feel empty? Did she think stealing his heart would fill the void inside? Maybe if he could find some way to communicate that he was empty too she would stop. By now it was too late for that. She’d probabaly just kill him on sight. There were days were he would get an overwhelming wave of déjà vu. They were brief but often left him creeped out for the rest of the day. It was small things that set it off, like a pipe leaking. He would suddenly feel out of control, like he was looking at his own body but inhabiting it at the same time. At least, that was the best way to describe it. They’d stopped recently. Boris liked that they had stopped. It made living much easier. One day however, that lucky streak ended.

He was attempting to fix the gear mechanism that sat in the corner. It made the safehouse warmer. Desperately fiddling about with the gears and screws, even banging it with his wrench a few times, warmth finally returned. He gave a internal smile and stood up. He heard an awful ripping sound, and looked to see that his chest pocket had torn. And just when things were going well. Something on them ground caught his eye. A piece of paper, no, not paper, something else. It was pure white, not the yellow of everything else. Reaching down, rather confused as to what this could possibly be, he picked it up. It was a photograph? At least that’s what he remembered it being. But...he’d never seen a photo before. How could he possibly know what it was called? He focused on the photo. It was...colourful (how did he know that word?). There was a little girl in the picture, with bushy black hair and caramel coloured eyes. A woman, half covered in shadow stood in the corner. She had dirty blonde hair and the same caramel eyes as the girl. She was pretty. He looked to the side. Hidden in the background, crouched over something was, what was that, it seemed familiar, a, he knew somewhere he just couldn’t quite remember, a man-

 

**IT’S ME. IT’S ME IT’S ME IT’S ME IT’S ME IT’S ME. WHAT HAPPENED?? WHY DO I LOOK LIKE THIS??? HELP. SOMEBODY HELP ME. I CAN’T SPEAK. I CAN’T SPEAK!!! I̝̟̹̳̦̠ ̟̳̰C̱͔͉͇͓̹͔A̫͓N̺’̱̠͜T̜͉ ̙S҉͙͍̟̱͍̰͚P͇͈̟̰ͅE̥̤̙̰͍A̠͖͙͈͎͙ͅK͠.͖͉̣͍̯̩̞͞.**

**NO. I’M NOT GOING JUST YET. I CAN’T. I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING. LEAVE A MESSAGE. LET ME KNOW. NOT NOW, I WONT GO BACK. I WON’T GO BACK. I WONT GO BACK. I WONT. I WONT. I. WONT-**

Boris blinked. He looked around, quiet confused. This wasn’t where he was before. He looked at his hand. His fingertip was covered in ink, dipped into a nearby puddle. He looked at the wall in front of him. There was a terrifying collage made up of posters, torn to pieces. It was what now remained of his poster collection. Boris gave an internal frown. He had worked hard for that collection. Shakily getting up, he walked back over to the machine. There was a trail of destruction, clothes torn off the rack, items scattered across the floor. The machine was still working. Looking at the puddle near it, the once white photo was now stained black. He wasn’t really bothered to pick it up. He turned and left to the bathroom to wash his hand, followed by some rightfully earned bacon soup, praying all the while that another one of those episodes wouldn’t happen again.

After all, they served no purpose, and Boris was quite comfortable with being in control of his own body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmmm....
> 
> HMMMMMMMM.....


	13. Never Make Deals With Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micheal Gent was the owner of the Gent company. He lived a normal life, with a wife and two children. And then Mr Drew walked into it.

There was a knock on the door. I finished sipping my coffee and placed the mug on the table, pushing a few papers to the side and placing a pencil in a pot. 

“Come in.”

The handle turned and the door opened. A man stepped in with a smile on his face. As he moved closer and sat down, I examined that his smile was of someone who was confident that he would get what he wanted. 

“So Mr Drew, why did you book an appointment with me?”

”I have a big project in mind.”, He said, leaning across the desk, making me push my chair back a bit, “A project that will only come into fruition with your help, and must be kept from the public at all costs.”

I raised an eyebrow, “And what exactly is this project?”

Generally, projects that were meant to be top secret were either ridiculously expensive, something genuinely or both. I had not the slightest clue what Mr Drew was about to present to me. He took out about 15, 17 pages of notes and handed them to me. I sifted through them, finding that they were double sided. I felt my whole face continuously moved as I looked over the notes, a different emotion present within me every few seconds. I handed them back and looked at the man in the chair cautiously. 

“I do not know if this would work Mr Drew. You’ve gone into the great detail, the process seems sound but the end result is practically unreachable.”

”Oh, don’t worry, I have a solution for that.”, A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Say, don’t you have a wife Micheal?”

I was taken aback. That was the first time any client had ever called him his first name, especially in a meeting. It was actually quite offensive.

“I don’t see how that question is relevant to the subject.”

”I’ve heard you’ve been having...problems with each other recently.”, He awaited his answer, the smile fully claiming his face.

”Mr Drew, this is very personal information and if you keep this up there will be no chance of me excepting your proposal.”

He stared at me. He was trying to intimidate me, so I stared back. I found myself feeling rather uncomfortable. The more I waited for him to look away the more I noticed that something was wrong. The smile on his face was clear, but his eyes were...empty. Devoid of really any sort of joy, rather blank and glassy, like a doll’s. The fact they were grey only added to how bland and soulless they were.

”So”, The person said, “Will you accept the offer or not?”, I stared at the paper, rather overwhelmed, “If it works, it could bring a lot of success. Then again, you could always turn it down. There are plenty of other companies would could make this work, I’ve already teamed up with Abelbuild for resources. Maybe I don’t need you for success...”

”Fine.”, I bitterly said, looking up, “I’ll assist you in building this ‘Ink Machine’.”

”Good.”, Joey said, extending a hand for me to reluctantly shake, “I assure you. You won’t regret this decision.”

Back then I believed him. Though bitter, I believed somewhere deep down inside me that this would work, that somehow I would be rewarded for signing a contract and spending my money on a failing project. I felt that, in the end, everything would turn out fine if I kept on being hopeful.

 

Ha.

 

 

 

 

 

W͖͎̟̮̲̲͍̠͚̼͉̘̣̰̱̥̰̞̞̉̍ͩ͗ͭ͊̍̐͂͌̚H̬̝̰̘͑̀̍ͬ̈́Ạ̞̫̥̥̫̲͖̤̥͍̫͎̬͚͍̙̪͕̃̊ͩ̄ͥ̾̆ͦT̼̞̘̹̫̪͓̻͕̯̮̮̯̯̾̑̄ͮͥ̋̏͛̽̃̇̓̑ͪ̆ ͚̞͍̫̜̘͚̤ͤ̒̑͐̋̽̐̏̏Ǎ͍̬̻̺̙̙̹̻̉ͩ̋ ̱̠̖͍̥͛ͦ̐̌̏̂̈́̉̔̉ͬ͂B͚̫͓̜̞͉̣̞̉̓̐ͭͪ̂̉̿͌̎̏́Ḻ͚̟̪̝̊̍ͣͤ͌͌́̀I̝͚̜͉͕̪̗̾̐̾N̥̼̘̻͔͍͕͔̥̼͙͎͖ͦ́̂̒ͯ͋̀͑̑ͨ̔ͯ̐ͧ̒̚ͅD̟̻̝͕̻͍̪̠̮̏̿̋̐̄̍̓ͅ ̱̝̳͚̭̌ͦ̓ͪF̮̥̖̗̘̼́ͭ̔̍ͮͪͥ͑ͤ̋ͤ̿Ọ͓̰̘̼̼̘̗̅̅̑̄̓̔͑͐̈́͒ͩͣ͑̒̓̚O̝̳̯̜̤̫̳̗̼̣̼͓͇͗͑̈̂̈́ͮͨ̄̉̋̿͊̈́̀̆̒̔͛L̝͙͙̺͌̔ͤ͐͊ͥͯ̓̎ͥ̓̌̽ͮ̆ͩ̉̚ ͕̺͓̲͓̹̞̫̤͓͈̫̺͇̉ͯ̇̿͒̿͂̈̑̚İ̻͚̠̤̝̦̳͕̫̲̜ͨ̉ͨͫ̈́͋̎͑́ͅ ̮̪̼͈͍̗͖͔͍̭̤ͣͯ̏̈́̎̑̏W̠͕͕̥͚̩̯͇͍̥̩͈͔̩̥͉̼̲̹͒̈̑̅̊́ͪA̝̯͚̲̤̳͔̮͇͍͙̻̻͕̮͇̍̏͛̒ͨ͑͋̈ͮṢ̯̟͙̣̳̬͎͙̝̦̠͉̬̦͍͉ͨ̂͐ͩ̾͆̃̏̋ͩ͗͒̎ͦ͗ͩ͛̌.͎̪̩̪͖͈̣̯͇̥̱̠̝̰͍̳̦͐͆ͫ͆̉̈́̃ͅ

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean something terrible will happen to him? No. Nothing bad happens. No way. Absolutely not. Everything’s fine. Comepletly fine.


	14. Heartless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After exchanging a few letters, Wally gets one asking him to go to the studio. He goes, expecting some sort of meet-up.
> 
> Familiar faces are present. Faces that have been missing for at least 10 years.
> 
> WARNING: Body horror, intense violence, scary syringes and overuse of zalgo text.

**Dear Mr Drew**

**I don’t exactly know why you’ve asked me to go back to the workshop. After all, it closed about 10 years ago. But I would be happy to go back and see it one last time, for old time’s sake.**

**Will the others come? I’ve been wondering if this is some sort of reunion. I hope it is, I haven’t seen the others in forever. Especially Thomas. Old man was harsh on me but he was under a lot of stress and he was kind when it mattered.**

**I know Susie probably won’t be there. After what happened with her losing her role and all. Shame that she resigned. She still did a great job voicing other characters. Oh well, nothing that we can change now. Always said I’d be ‘outta there’ but now I’m going back inside.**

**-Wally Franks**

* * *

An unused door opened, letting sunlight into a dark place. Wally Franks shut the door behind him with a loud thud. He kicked some dirt off of his shoes. Wally was suprised to see that the ‘Joey Drew Studios’ sign was still turning. _Thought the power here would've been shut off ages ago._

“Hello?”, He called out, voice echoing through the empty halls, “Anybody here?”

The various pipes he far from fondly remembered fixing and cleaning up after were stuck into every single wall. He jumped slightly at the sight of writing spread across the wall. It looked rushed, bold letters telling him **‘DREAMS COME TRUE’**. He raised an eyebrow at it and shook his head. _Guess the musicians wouldn’t leave without making a mark of sorts._ Seeing the Ink Machine ahead he turned the corner straight away. All the lights were on inside, Bendy cutouts watching his every move. It was peculiar. Wouldn’t they have shut off the lights? He wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going, still calling out to people that weren’t there.

”Joey?! Anyone?”, He stopped and let out a groan, “Oh, this place again.”

Placed on little pedestals in what was once the break room were various objects. He remembered Joey acting like a loony, going around and asking for objects to appease the gods. Man looked like he hadn’t slept in a month. One of the items caught his eye.

”Hey, it’s my wrench!”

He picked it off and balanced it in his hands. It was his first wrench and he was rather disappointed when Joey took it off him. He took each object off their pedestals one by one to look at them. Feeling rather bored, he decided to place them back where they were taking from. It wasn’t like anyone was using them anymore, seeing as the pipes weren’t pumping. When he was placing the gear back, he found it odd that the Ink Machine was still hoisted up by it’s chains. Then again, most things here were odd. Wally wandered around for a bit longer, waiting for someone to show up. It then occurred to him that they may be downstairs. Locating which door was the elevators (quite a challenge considering most were either locked or led to something different). Stepping inside he pressed the button and descended. 

* * *

There was a cheery ding and Wally ran out of the safe houses lift. Backing away from the closing door, breathing heavily, listening for the groans of those creatures. He breathed a sigh of relief at their absence. Turning to the safehouse itself, pulling away the door, he entered the rather familiar location. A billion questions rushed through his mind.

“Oh god.”, He said to himself, “What were those things?”

He leaned on a table as he regained his breath. He searched for any supplies he could take, grabbing one of the hard hats for light. _There’s a lift on Level K I can take._ He thought as he pulled down the safehouses Lever. _I can get out of here that way._ Exiting the house, he found the dark passage as predicated. The hat was useful for a bit until it run out of batteries. Then he was left to stumble around in the darkness, the throbbing machinery around him. His natural clumsiness didn’t help much either as he tripped up a few times. In the end, he was able to get out. Then he came across a metal door. He knocked on it a few times. Looking to his left, he spotted a vent. It only took about 5 minutes to figure out which wire was which in the darkness before the door opened. Heavenly toys passed by, so did the toy machine room where a strange ink creature lurked near a recording (he wondered how Shawn was doing). A very creepy Alice Angel room passed by. There was another room with the Dreams come true message. It was a small but comfy room. Wally sat down to rest, his age getting to him. Nearby was a recording. He listened to it with sadness. _Poor Susie. She was so nice to me. She didn’t deserve that sort of thing to happen to her._ He looked at the passage way nearby. It occurred to him that he had forgotten the other lift in his haste to get away from those creatures. He could’ve gotten out sooner if he hadn’t been a coward. Now he could never see Beatrice, his children or his grand children again. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. _You’ll only get out of here if you believe in yourself._ And so, he continued his journey. Everything seemed to slow down after those thoughts. The dripping of ink, the creaks of the boards, he because aware of every little sound of every little danger. He really thought about what those creatures were. They looked like they were made purely from ink. But that wouldn’t be possible unless...unless his machine worked.

Joey had told him it was a faliure. That it hadn’t worked properly. And yet, after all this time, it turned out that it did. Wally couldn’t help but feel mad. He never understood the reason why Henry left or why Bertrum was so angry all the time. But now he did. Joey always took. He always took and claimed that ideas where his own while leaving the original creator in the dust. With new found determination to escape and slap Joey he continued. And slowed. There were some very strange noises coming from before him. He assumed it was radio playing an old song. Some sort of humming. And it was...a woman’s voice? Yes. No radio static. Yes it was a woman’s voice! And right next to the lift too! Overwhelmed with joy, he ran towards the sound. He froze as soon as he saw what was below the balcony. 

There was a woman. It looked like a woman. But it couldn’t be. It was coloured the same as the world around it, a lopsided halo shoved into his inky black head. A pair of horns came from it as well. Apart from her head she looked completely normal. It was what she was doing that scared him. She was kneeling over a bizzare creature with a metal arm, somewhat resembling the character Edgar from the cartoons. She was digging her hands into it’s chest and w҉͖͖̙̥̟a̺s̫͔̹̹͎̼ ̤͉ri̙̜͉̪̜p̴p̪͍̟̫̻͎ͅí̱͖n̼̱͈̬͕̼͠g̢̗̼̦̳̙͖ ̯̞̥ọ͎̹̥̱̙̭ut̳̫̳͡ ̕i̬̥̫͎͙͇͘t͜’̵̼̲͖͕s̙̟͘ ͇̟̮̳̀H͚͖̼̹͙͇͈E̛̗̪͇̫̤ͅA̢̱R̪Ţ̣̠̪̘. Wally put a hand over his mouth as there was one last disgusting tear. She held it in her hands. 

“ _And it’s still throbbing_.”, She said in a high pitched voice.

Wally looked around, fear growing in his chest. _Is she talking to me?_

“ _It’s never much fun doing this._ **The chase however is a lot more exilerating.”**

It was followed by a dark chuckle from a deeper voice. Wally took a step back, hand still clasped over his mouth. The creature stood up, and with it’s back still turned, began to walk up the stairs. Wally found himself unable to run, only backing away slowly. 

 **“You know,”,** The creature said as it turned the corner **, “It’s been a while since I’ve had a play thing.”**

Wally recoiled in horror at it’s mutilated face. A deep wound lay on it’s neck, bleeding black blood. Wally turned to run but tripped over one of the many cogs and gears sticking out from the wall. He rolled over with a groan, vision swimming and littered with stars. A blurry figure stood over him and said something muffled. His ankle was grabbed and he was dragged across the floor just as his vision went completely dark.

* * *

 

Wally’s eyes snapped open, the last thing he remembered feeling was fear. The room before him was unfamiliar, but the pumping of pistons and grinding of gears was familiar. Wally moved his head about before attempting to move his arms and legs. He found that they were being held down by bonds that were tightened to a suffocating degree. Wally looked to his left to see the woman who had pursued him earlier. It only struck him now that they bore a striking similarity to Alice Angel. She obviously didn’t deserve the ‘Angel’ part and ‘Alice’ was too innocent so his mind settled on ‘Malice’ as a name. She was currently fiddling about with something sharp, something shiny. 

“So, What are you gonna do to me?”, He asked, trying not to reveal the fear behind his voice.

She looked up and gave him half a smile, the mutilated part merely stretching. _Disgusting._

 **“Ah, so my toy’s awake. Excellent.”** , She put down whatever she was doing and turned her chair to face him, resting her head on her hands, **“What brings you to such a dismal place like this?”**

Seeing nothing else to do, and worried what would happen if he didn’t, he answered, “I came here because I got a letter from Joey Drew.”

The figures eyes narrowed, **“So you know him then?”**

“Ah well, you see, back when I was younger, much younger, I worked as a janitor here, he was my boss. We didn’t get along that well and I resigned. That lady I was dating, had some kids with her, got married, got a house, got a job. And then he came back into contact with me and everything was fine first until he wrote me this letter. Now I came assuming I would be seeing him and my old work partners again but no one was here! I went looking for them and came across these creepy ink creatures that crawled so I ran away before realising that I had run away from the elevator. So I came to your place to get on the elevator, saw you and then tripped up and now I’m here.”

The angel smiled sadly, _“You’re saying so much to delay your fate. I don’t blame you. Death is terrifying. Everything you are and everything you know blinks out of existence. You are nothing anymore. There is no you, only the hollow shell you inhabited left over. I cannot say what comes after that blink out of existence. And neither will you.”_

Wally became worried at that. Not only had this thing experienced death but she claimed that he wouldn’t know what the other side was if she killed him, which he assumed she wasn’t going to do. His eyes fell on the wound in her neck. Had she died and come back as this? If so, was she planning to turn him into some sort of _thing?_

“No.”, Wally said in a shaking voice, writhing under his constraints, “No you won’t turn me into a thing like you.”

The sadness turned into sadistic glee at his terror, **“Oh come now. You’ll be rid of all of that age, all of those regrets you have. You’ll be reborn! And if you’re good enough you could help perfect me.”**

She stood up, grabbing the shiny thing from the table. Wally’s desperate struggling became greater upon realising it was a syringe.

”Please!”, He begged as she walked briskly towards him, “Please, I have children!! And grandkids too!!”

**“And yet you decided to come here, knowing about the disappearances, knowing about the creator, knowing about the ink machine!!”**

She seized his face with one of her cold hands and moved it to expose his neck. His breathing grew faster as she hissed into his ear.

**“ _I know who you are Wally Franks._ I know you designed the ink machine, I know how Joey abused it, I know how Thomas maintained it. I know _everything.”_**

“Please”, Wally whimpered, “Anything he did wasn’t my fault, I don’t know about it!!”

 **“Of course you didn’t!”** , She snapped before smiling her sinister smile, **“I don’t hate you Wally.”**

She stuck the syringe into his neck making him gasp from the pain.

**“I just want Joey, Sammy, Thomas, Allison, the demon, all of them to pay for taking away my perfect ending. Even if that means ruining other people’s perfect ones.”**

Wally’s entire body was rigid as the ink entered his body. It was cold and disgusting, flowing through his veins. He could already feel a numbing sensation spreading through his body as she removed the needle. She stepped away to watch the show, her eyes as cold as the ink within him. Wally wanted to say something, wanted to scream, anything. But he couldn’t. He let out small desperate gasps as every inch of his body seemed to tighten, crushing him from the inside. Oxygen escaped his lungs as he felt something inside him changing. His neck felt wet and disgusting, colder than anything before. It began to spread across his body, reaching his face. He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes as the pain moved in throbbing waves through his body. His sobs were quiet as tears were forced from his eyes. His entire mouth had become numb and wet too, so had his shoulder and upper arm. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t. His breaths grew quicker and quicker as it crawled up his face and further across his body. His crying became stabbing needles as the pain creeped into his eye. They opened as his entire body lurched forward to cough up something. It was a lump of ink. More of the thick substance was hacked up as his vision went dark. Gurgling screams of agony made their way out of his steadily melting throat. He couldn’t see anything at all. Everything felt wet and cold and suffocating. The madwoman’s laugh’s sounded like they were being heard from underwater as the feeling finally reached his feet. The pain grew even greater as it squeezed what remained of his body, contorting it in ways it wasn’t supposed to. _Please._ Wally begged as his bones seemed to reshape around his organs. _Please, god, make it stop._ Through the unbearable pain there was a faint whispering. A voice he didn’t know, a man’s voice in the back of his head.

Dǫ ̶y҉ou ̶wan͘t͠ t͏he ͡pain̛ ͞to͠ ̀st͞op͢?

_Yes, god please stop it, stop it._

It’̀s̢ ̕ok҉a̸y͠.͠ ̴Why̛ ̕d̕on’̵t̵ you͠ r̴e͢st?̀

Wally didn’t know how he was supposed to get any sleep through this unbearable agony. He felt something reconstructing the front of his face, making it too long, too inhuman.

_Sleeping...does sound nice. Will it make the pain stop?_

Yes̴.̢ You wo҉n̨’t fe̕el͜ ̸pain̷ ̛ag̛a̵i҉n.̢ ̕You̷ won’t f̛eel ͘anyth̵in̢g again. Y̸ou̵ c̨an jús̨t̀ r̴es͏t͜.

Wally internally smiled. Maybe he was going to get the sweet release of death instead of living on as one of those things. In fact, the pain was subsiding, distant throbs of it going through his numb body. 

_Yeah......I’ll go to sleep....Maybe I’ll see Beatrice again...see Mildred....maybe..this was all an awful dream..._

**Dr̡eams ́c̛ǫme t̕r͏ue͜ ̛Wa͟ll̀y.͜**

**A̶̵҉͙̜̱͇̜̗̫͉͇̼̖̯̻̞̥̜ͅͅN͏̡͕̣͔͓̦̖̹͎͉̩͙͔͍͕̳͜͝ͅD̷͍͉͓̪͉͚̱̬͈̥̮̼̀͞ ̨̹̖͖̻͇̹͕̦̣̫͎͡͝Ǹ̨̹̭͖̖͍͔̯̠̳̮̗̤̤̭̻̣̹̲͢Ì̴̵͚͔̭̤̪͔͓̳̬̦̤̱̟̪̝̗̭̩͘G̴̶̛̺͓̰̲̬̳̀H̷̘͓͈̗̞̜͓͓͘T̶̶͡҉̯̥͈͚͍͕M̴̩̗̠͈͟À̶̛̳̘̯̺̹̳̳̙͎̟̕͝R҉̡͏̸̳̦̰̪̺̮̤͕̞ͅÈ̶̢̬͈͔̳ͅŞ̴̴͓͓̘͍͘ ̵̨̙̳͚̮̰̳͕̀̀̀D̟̜̦̟͓́͝O̢̢̘̗͎̯̮͇̦̳͍̰͎͔͕͚ͅ ̸̡̛͉̖͓̭͓̟T̶̛͡҉̸̻͓̠̯̳͉̖̳̮͕̜ͅO̰̮̘̬͓̘̙͈͘͟͠ͅO̧̡̞̺͚͈.̴̡͎̻̦̤͚̹̩͇̘̬͎̩͝**

**_N̰̣̥̫̝̖̲͎̗͕̹͚̼̤͕͔̞O̮̲͚̞̰̮͔͉͇̠̟̞̙͔N̫̩̱̜̠̫̗̲O͓̙̙̯̺͎̳̝̹N̖̮͕̪̺̮̹̬̫̱̼ͅO̳̫̺͕̯̞̠̖̪̹̞͔̹ͅN̳͙̟̬͎͕O̝̖͍̪̭̠N̼͇͈̭O̪̟͕͈̬͎͙N͙͈̤͙̼O̳̼͙̙̜̭̮_  
̪̳͎̭̫̹͈N̰͙̪̬̗̗̰̝̻͙͎̹̖̜̖̭̳̹O͇̻̱̝̣͕͖̜̬̰̪̞̖̙̠͉N̼̦̠̻̮̻̩̣͍̹O͍̤̼N͔͕͍͕͙͚͍̫̭͕͈̳O̮͕̠͇N̹͎̫̯̮̘̞̜̤̯̤̲O̳̼͙͖N̥̠͍̤̭͇̪̙̗̬͔̳O̝̹͕͉̲̻͉͇̠̤̫͚͎̮ͅͅN̪̜͍̺O̫͕̮͕̬̼͈̜͖̘̭͈͕̗͓̬ͅͅ  
̱̪͎̣̩̣̩Ṉ̼̲̥̼̮̣̥̞͍͚̟̮̪O̖̤͔̮͓͔͈͕̪͈̤̪͖͙͍̫̤̙͇N͍̬̳̭͖̦̘͎͓͙͚͇̜O̖̦̰͔ͅṈ͉̻͈͔O̦̗̥̳̼̱̣͙̩̜̠̺͉ͅN̻̙̟̬̰̜̫̹̣̣͈̙̤͔̱̖̻ͅO̠̯̲̻̯̻̬͔̞͉̖̲̗͙̹̼̻̜̠N͚̯̱̪̖͔̜̫̹̫͖͕̭̬̳͙̙̥O͉͖̮̲͕̥͉̳̪̤̟̻̠͓ͅN̠͎̱̯̖̩͈͎̰̹̼̯ͅO̰̦͉̥͔̭̟̞̻̫͔̩̟̙̳͍͈͖̟  
̝͚̬̣̗͈̳͚͔͍ͅN̲̤̥̥̩͍̬̲͓͉̥͕O̙̱͚̥̼N̼͖͓̬̳̻̦̲O̞̖̮N̗̝̤̦̳̩͇̦̤̪̭̞̦̦̩ͅO̫̺̼͚̰̲͍̤̤͚̫̫̮͙ͅN͍̣̻̙͎͙͙̹͖̤͓͍ͅO̱͈̺͈̩͓̣͇̜̫͇̟̗͖̪̩N͕̺̗̼͎̬͖O͚͈̼͖̱͚͉͓̹̩̹̺ͅN͉̝̩̥O̲̜̭̪̗̙͍**

 

**_No._ **

 

**_no.._ **

 

 ** _n o..._**  

__

 

 

 

 

 

 

_..._

_?_

_??_

The wolf’s eyes opened. The light hurt. He didn’t like the light. He wanted to go back to sleep. He looked at the lady sitting across from him. ‘Malice’. The name fitted her. She was staring directly at him, cold fury present in her eyes. Her grip tightened around a nearby axe. 

She stood up screaming in rage and crammed the axe into him over and over and over and over and over again. Ink sprayed everywhere, the wolf’s body violently jerking upon every strike.

 **“NO!”** , She screamed, **“HOW CAN HE BE MORE PERFECT THAN ME!? NO ONE CAN BE MORE PERFECT THAN ME!!”**

She ripped the axe from the mutilated body and hurled it across the room. She laughed dementedly, her ink covered face pointing upwards. 

 **“I KNOW YOU DID THIS JOEY** **!!!! I KNOW YOU PLANNED THIS!!! YOU WANT TO REPLACE ME AGAIN!!!???”**

She slammed her fists down on her control panel with a loud scream.

**“I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE PERFECTION FROM ME AGAIN!!!”**

She violently threw her fists against the control panel until only sparks and wires remained. With heavy breaths she looked over at the body. The organs were spilling out. A crooked smile spread across her face.

 **“Then again.”** , She walked over and ripped out it’s heart from behind it’s rib cage, **“Perhaps you have given me a gift.”**

**”And I will cherish it.”**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Oh dear deary dear.


	15. Friends Until The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snippets of Bertrum and Lacie’s interactions over the course of their time together.
> 
> (I’ve also updated Chapter 4)

Lacie twisted a screw around in a metal shell. She checked that everything was held together and looked fondly at her creation. It was a little cart for that haunted house she had been tasked with designing. Lacie figured that with some cushioned seating it would be great. She walked back to her office to fetch the design pattern, rolling her eyes at the other R&D workers failing attempts to keep one of the carousel’s horses together. Stepping into her office she stopped upon seeing the man sitting not so far away. He was tinkering with some sort of metal arm, banging his wrench against it in frustration.

”Stop coming loose dammit!”

Lacie tried to retrieve her blueprints at silently as possible. Sliding the draw open, she silently grabbed the blueprints and began to leave the room. The clanging had stopped, and she glanced over her shoulder to see the man staring in silent fury at his dislodged contraption. Feeling a sting of pity, Lacie hesitantly said.

”You know, hitting it with wrench won’t help it. I advise getting a different screw.”

He stared at her, removed the last screw at secured another one in. He tested the arm. He awkwardly looked back at her.

”Thank you.”, He said clearing his throat, “I believe you are Miss Benton?”

”Yes. And I assume you are ‘The Great Bertrum Piedmont’.”

”Yes.”, Bertrum proudly answered.

Lacie rolled her eyes and walked away as he began to secure another part into it’s place.

* * *

Lacie sat at her desk, drawing. She had come up with an idea for a ballroom where carts could twist around and come back. With it being a haunted house and all, she decided to come up with some creepy drawings. There were plenty of discarded sketches already. Bertrum was once again tinkering with his invention which she had come to learn was an Animatronic. The working silence between them was a bit tense, as if one wanted to say something but couldn’t.

”So.”, Bertrum said, “How are those sketches going?”

”Alright.”, Was Lacie’s strained one word answer.

”Great....So, are you one of the useless volunteers and/or interns? You certainly don’t seem like it.”

”I’ve worked on a few things in my time. Pipes, boats, trains, cars, houses, I’ve dabbled in it all really. Only came here cause’ work was scarce and the others looked completely hopeless.”

”They really are hopeless.”, Bertrum sighed, “Can’t believe Joey would give me these inexperienced idiots to work with.”

”Yeah, I know, right.”, She answered.

Both turned back to their work, the silence a little less tense.

* * *

 Bertrum stormed into the room, sitting down in his chair with a huff. Lacie rolled her eyes, a smirk on her face and turned towards him.

”Alright, what did Joey do this time?”

”He called me _Bertie._ ”, He hissed through gritted teeth.

”So what? People call me Lace all the time, even you.”

”He called me Bertie in front of the investors!!”, He retaliated, “Like I was a child!!!”, He took a sharp gasp, “As if I were BENEATH HIM!!!”

Lacie patted the seething man in the shoulder. It wasn’t uncommon for him to storm in about Joey. His hatred for the man had made him work even harder on that Animatronic than before. By now he had made all the arms and legs. He had also demanded that it, and many other attractions, remained top secret. He was clearly worried Joey would come up with some lie to take credit for it. Lacie didn’t blame him. Mr Drew was a mythomaniac. Bertrum let out a heavy sigh.

”I don’t even know why I decided to go through with this.”

”Nobody does Bertrum.”, Lacie sadly said, “No one does.”

* * *

Lacie walked into the room, humming a tune she heard on a record, with two mugs of coffee. Bertrum had been feeling down lately so she had made him and herself some. He was hunched over some blueprints, furiously tapping his pencil on the edge of the table. Lacie placed down the mug, making him stop his scowling. He gave her a grateful smile.

”Thank you Lacie, this will certainly help.”

Lacie leaned over and saw his notepad was out. She glanced at the title. ‘New Park Attractions’. Bertrum noticed her looking at it and explained.

”Joey has decided that he wants more attractions.”, Bertrum wearily said, “I cannot think of anymore and he says that if I don’t he’ll have to have take control of this project.”

”Now that’s just a ton of bullshit!”, Lacie yelled, slamming her mug on the table, some coffee spilling out, “Who the hell does he think he is!”

”Joey Drew, creator of a crooked cartoon empire.”, Bertrum deadpanned.

”Yeah, And you’re Bertrum Piedmont, the great Bertrum Piedmont to be exact! If you were to ask my opinion I would go up to him and slap him across the face-“

Both heads turned as a young girl with long, wavy, nearly white hair walked into the room. She was shifting nervously from foot to foot, a piece of paper in hand.

”What is it Lavender.”, Bertrum asked, burying his face in his hands with a tired sigh.

”Well, Mr Piedmont sir, um,”, She took a deep breath, “Mr Drew told Mr Mendel who told Mr Hill who told Mr Cohen who told me that he wants to see you and that Lacie needs to go to”, She glanced at the sheet of paper, “Level 13 or X, 3 hallways from entrance, second room on the left.”

Lacie and Bertrum looked at one another, silently debating wether or not to go. Reluctantly, both got up, Lacie thanking Lavender on the way out, mugs of coffee left untouched.

* * *

Lacie stared blankly at the blueprints, an untouched samwhich nearby. Why was she even doing this? What did it even mean? She sank a bit lower. She glanced over to Bertrum who was scribbling furiously. He was staring at it with a surprising amount of intensity. Lacie knee it was useless to try and talk to him. Who would want to talk her anyway? Her limbs felt suprisingly heavy. She just wanted to rest, go to sleep and never wake up. Lacie shook her head. No, what was she thinking? They were on a deadline, she needed to do her work. Lacie looked over at Bertrum once again.

”Bertrum...”, He snapped his heads around, eyes still with that intensity, “Your hand looks really red. I think you should rest.”

Bertrum looked down at his hand and suddenly clutched it. His face creased in discomfort.

”Yeah..It does hurt. How did I not notice that before-“, His eye caught the clock, “How long have I been here for?”

”You missed all of lunchbreak Bertrum.”, He stared in shock, “I thought about coming to get you, but I was just so tired....Here.”, She pushed a plate towards him, “You can have this samwhich.”

Bertrum took, an expression of worry on his face, “I can’t believe I didn’t notice. I was just so absorbed in my work. I mean, I’m obviously never unengaged but this is ridiculous.”, He rubbed his temples, “This place does things to your head.”

 “Everyone’s been acting weird lately Bertrum.”, Lacie leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling, “I doubt anyone here’s still sane. I thought we had avoided this weird thing that had been going around but it seems we haven’t...Can I be honest for a second here Bertrum?”

He finished eating a certain piece of the samwhich before saying yes. 

“Recently I’ve just been feeling these overwhelming waves of apathy and sadness. I don’t know where they came from but the rest of R&D seems to be feeling it too. Bertrum, you are literally the only close friend I have here, the only thing keeping me from going over the edge. I feel like the same is true for you.”

Bertrum sat in silence for a bit, “If we’re going to honest...I’m scared. Terrified. Everything here is going to hell and I just want to leave but..somethings...keeping me here. I don’t know what, but it’s keeping me chained in this darn studio. If we’re going to stand any chance of surviving this place, we’re going It have to stick together.”

Lacie held out a hand, “Promise you ain’t going anywhere without me?”

”Promise.”, Bertrum said as he shook her hand, “Now, I think we need to get back to work before Joey kills us.”

Lacie let out a laugh at that and both turned their seats back to their desks.

* * *

Lacie did not sit at her desk. She sat in the middle of a round room, bookshelves towering around her like the walls of a prison. There was no emotion on her face. Her entire body was limp yet heavy like she didn’t even have the strength to sit up straight. A young man with curly hair rushed past, slowing upon noticing Lacie.

”Hi Lacie.”, Murray said with a meek wave.

No answer, just small turn of the head. Murray put down his hand and shifted on his feet.

”Me and Shawn are going to spend lunch break together. You could join us if you want. He’s a really good friend.”, Silence, “Do you want a samwhich? It is lunch after all.”

”Already had food.”, She finally answered, gesturing to a half eaten samwhich in the bin.

Murray nodded sadly, “Oh. Ok. Well, if you ever want anyone to talk to, I’m open!”

And he hurried away. Lacie stared into nothing. Nothing at all. What was there to look at? Just meaningless shit. A clock made a chiming noise for the end of lunch. She would proabably have to fix a pipe. But she couldn’t bring herself to move. After all.

**Nothing mattered anyway.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depresso espresso is what’s on the menu today.


	16. Sheep Songs

Allison sat at the table, pen moving in swirls across the paper. An envelope lay nearby, already carefully opened. She thought for a bit, tapping the pen against her chin. She began to write again when the front door opened. She leaned back in her chair and gave her husband a broad smile. She stood up and walked towards him.

”So...”, She said, giving him a kiss on the cheek, “Anything happen at work today?”

”Few customers came by, fixed some stuff, nothing more.”, Thomas said in a bored tone, “Anything happen to you?”

”Well, Karen spilt coffee all over her script which was something. But other than that no.”

Thomas hung his coat up on the hanger, catching Allison sitting back down out of the corner of his eye. He leaned over her as she continued to write her letter, nose wrinkling.

”You really shouldn’t be writing to Mr Drew.”

”Oh come on Thomas, it’s been years! Plenty of time to think about the things you’ve done! He hasn’t said anything rude so far-“

”When we left he said you had no talent.”

”Well that was in the heat of the moment!”, Allison sighed, “Well, I can’t change your opinion, but I will write what I want to who I want.”

Thomas shook his head and walked away, muttering, “Not everyone deserves your kindness”, under his breath.

* * *

Thomas trudged through the heavy winter snow, grumbling as he usually did. Everyone at work was an idiot. Kind of reminded him of Wally. Big heart, extremely small brain. Wonder how he managed to get a girlfriend. Thomas took out his keys which were icy cold. He opened the door and kicked snow off his boots, hanging his coat up. Footsteps came from the stairs and a rather gleeful Allison walked up to him. He smiled.

”What is it?”

She held out a piece of paper she hadn’t been clutching to her chest, “Read it.”

Thomas took the crinkled paper and looked over it.

**Allison,**

**Good job with that sequel! Wonder if it will be better than the original.**

**About Tom, I think I know where his dusty invention went. Last I saw it was somewhere in the Music Depertment. Wally proabaly moved it there somehow. May want to go to the studio and see. I’m pretty sure the powers still on (still seem to get the bills for it) and the whole thing hasn’t fallen down yet, so it’ll be moderately safe.**

**Happy (late) new year to you too Miss Pendle.**

**-Joey**

“You’re always complaining about it.”, Allison babbled on as Thomas scanned the paper, “So I figured that we go check it out and try to find it-“

”No.” Thomas said firmly, “Absolutely not.”

”Thomas, I know that studio holds bad memories for both of us but it will be easy. Just go in and go out.”

”No. No it’s not that simple, it’s dangerous.”

”Fine. If you won’t go, I’ll go by myself.”

Allison snatched her coat from the stand and put it on. Thomas watched in horror as she searched the draws. 

“You aren’t being serious right?”

She stood up with a torch, turning it on and off to check that it worked, “Dead serious.”

She slipped it into her coat pocket, grabbing her keys. She didn’t even wave goodbye as she opened the door and stepped outside. Thomas called out to her and made it halfway down the hall before she closed the door. He ran back over to his coat, hurriedly putting it on. He threw open the door and slammed it shut, leaving the house empty.

* * *

 Allison has reached the door of the studio but did not open it, despite the numbing cold. She looked over her shoulder and through the snowfall, could see a sillouhette running through the snow. She reached into her pocket, taking out a hair pin. The fiddled about with the lock as footsteps that crunched in the snow came close. Thomas heaved heavy breaths, close to collapse. The door swung open and Allison stepped inside. She leaned out past the doorframe and beckoned her husband. He scowled at her.

”You’ve come all this way, might as well get warm.”

Thomas very reluctantly stepped inside, overwhelmed with a wave of familiarity. Bitter familiarity. He did not fondly remember walking these halls looking for the next broken pipe. Allison on the other hand seemed quite calm.

”Remember this Projector?”, Allison pointed at a projector that wasn’t projecting any cartoons. 

“Yeah. Norman was trying to fix it since it wouldn’t play anything.”

”Probably what made him quit.”

Allison continued forward, Thomas tagging behind. She opened a door to reveal a very small elevator. Thomas shuddered. Allison squeezed his hand in a comforting manner and slowly led him inside. She pressed the button and the door slid shut, trapping them in there. Thomas flinched every time it made an odd noise or shook in a peculiar way. They finally made it to the music department and he almost jumped with joy. Allison smiled fondly.

”The music department was great. We always sung and everyone was so kind to me.”

“Apart from Sammy.”, Thomas growled, “He never enjoyed recording with you.”

”It’s...”, Allison paused with a sorrowful expression on her face, “Understandable why he wouldn’t.”

They left the room, finding a labyrinth of mazes. Allison still had the map of the place imprinted in her mind from all the time she spent memorising it. Thomas grimaced upon finding the next room was full of ink, covering everything. Wading through, Thomas looked around. A variety of items were submeberged beneath the ink. Chairs, chests, music stands, instruments, everything. Thomas let go of Allison’s hand. She turned and looked at him in confusion.

”There’s something wrong here.”

Allisom looked about, “It’s flooded, sure, but if each keep on moving we’ll reach some place dry.”

”No, not that, it’s just...all theses items belonged to people. The instruments were mostly people’s own, why did they just leave them here? And the music stands, wouldn’t they have bothered to tidy up.”

”The music department may have been kind but they were far clean.”

”NO!”, Thomas brought his voice down, almost to a whisper, “It was like this upstairs too. There were people’s possessions scattered around the place. No one threw away the paper, did you notice that?”

Allison’s face went pale. She was about to say something when a sound echoed through the room. The creak of a door. Thomas dragged Allison behind a large round structure submerged in the ink and crouched. He peered out as footsteps splashed through the ink. A human came from around the corner, skin stained black with ink. The fact it had no shirt didn’t help and the bottom of its dungarees were tinted black, giving its shoes an odd shine. It was wearing a stupid mask, looking like it had been sliced off a cutout, the axe it grasped in it’s hands the weapon that most likely did it. From it’s build it was male, no hair left on it’s head. It leaned it’s axe against a chest of drawers that had various ink splatters on it, drawing up a chair. It picked up a banjo and began to play. As Thomas watched it’s fingers move, he realised that it only had 4 fingers. He hadn’t a clue what this person was doing down here, or their odd appearance. Allison placed her hand on his shoulder, gripping it for dear life.

“What is that?”

”A person, most likely. What are they doing down here?”

The man stopped and Thomas feared that he had seen him. But he just tuned his banjo and went back to playing. Thomas’s eyes flicked to the door. Then back to the axe. He didn’t know why, but he felt like this guy wasn’t friendly. Allisom had obviously had the same thought as well, asking.

”How do we get past without being spotted?”

”We could leg it.”, Thomas suggested.

”Perhaps we should just wait until it leaves.”

Thomas had no objection to this plan and patiently waited for it to stop playing. It was delightful tune though. There was something very familiar about how he played it. The way his fingers moved, his posture and the man’s build as well. Thomas felt like he was just missing something about him. It kept on playing and eventually Thomas began to recognise the tune. _The Lighter Side Of Hell._ He didn’t remember a banjo being used in that piece, so whoever it was had a talent for reading sheet music. Allison’s grip suddenly grew together as she inhaled a sharp breath. The man looked up, his playing stopping. Allison held her breath in immediate regret. Thomas squinted at the man’s head. He had ears but he couldn’t see the line of his mouth let alone his eyes. I fact, the harder Thomas squinted the more it seemed like he didn’t have eyes. _And that was because he_ **didn’t.** Thomas stared in horror as the faceless man turned to stare directly at them. He placed down the banjo, Thomas and Allisom getting to his feet. He snatched up the axe and stood up, Thomas’s heart skipping a beat. Only one thought shot through his mind. _Run._ Allison was already ahead of him, bolting straight for the door. Thomas followed close behind, stumbling a bit. Those disgusting wet footsteps followed them onto the wood, yet the man was still silent. Thomas wssn’t even looking where he was going, too caught up in pure terror. He looked desperately for Allison, unable to find her. The wet footsteps had also stopped. He slowed until he stopped. He looked about and quietly said.

”Allison? Allison!?”

 _Oh god._ He picked up his pace. _What if that thing got her?_ He wandered helplessly through the maze, unable to see her anywhere. Perhaps she was just hiding? Out of breath and tired, he sat down against a Bendy Statue, laying his head on the base. He stared at the ink stained ceiling. He should’ve gotten up and continued to look for her, but something was keeping him here. He suspected that she was probably already safe, considering she knew how to navigate the place. Thomas closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. He jolted back to life upon something wet and disgusting clasping over his mouth. He struggled, a smiling face leaning in close.

 **“Hush Wolf.”,** It whispered, **“Don’t struggle. After all, you’re not even the one my lord wants.”**

With surprising strength it managed to lift him off the ground with that hand alone. Thomas violently fought, but it was like it was sellotaped to his mouth. Thomas started to find it hard to breath, gagging and gasping. It dropped him, his head smacking against the stone as he gasped for breath. He tried to crawl away but it seized his ankle. 

“LET GO OF ME!!!!”, He yelled.

**“No. You will bring the Sheep out.”**

“That doesn’t even make sense, Wolves come out for sheep’s, not the other way round!”

Even though it had no eyes, he could feel it glaring at him. Thomas shut up, trying to find some way to escape. There was nothing to grab hold of that he couldn’t be yanked off, nothing he could throw at it. He thought about kicking it with it’s free leg. He then tried it and found himself being held by both legs. Eventually, they stopped outside of Vault S3. He pulled up from the ground, an axe held to his neck.

**“Say her name.”**

Attempting to swallow the lump in his throat, Thomas croaked, “A-Allison?...”

He prayed that he wouldn’t hear her, that she was already gone. He watched in dismay as the door creacked open, Allison becoming clear. Her eyes widened at the scene.

”Thomas!”, She exclaimed, turning to the man, “Let him go!”

**“Not unless you come with me.”**

Allison tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. She took a step forward.

”Do I know you from somewhere?”

Thinking about it, Thomas found the man’s voice oddly familiar. It tightened it’s grip on him.

**“Not that I can recall, or care Sheep.”**

Allison took another step forward. Thomas felt the axe pressing into his flesh. 

“You..”, Allison’s face went deathly pale, “You’re Sammy Lawrence.”

Thomas felt the colour drain from his face as well. He looked up at what remained of Sammy. He stayed exactly the same.

**“...Sammy? The name sounds vaguely familiar.”**

Tears hadn’t begun to well in Allison’s eyes, “You don’t even remember your own name?”

 **“Don’t try and distract me!”,** He hissed **, “Come with me or he dies!”**

“And what happens if I do?”, Allison asked, eyes as slits.

**“I let him go.”**

Her eyes flicked between Thomas and Sammy. _Please._ He internally pleaded. _Please don’t go with him._ Allison stood up straight and took another step forward.

”I’ll do it.”, She said with an air of finality.

Thomas swore he could hear ink move as if he was smiling.

**“Good.”**

Thomas let out a gasp as pain cut through his arm. He was realeased from his grasp and stumbled, stabilising himself against the wall. He looked at his arm. Or what remained of it. A stub of a shoulder and flesh, blood raising from it. Thomas heard Allison scream and run toward him, only to fall to the ground upon being hit with the hilt of the axe. Thomas tasted iron in his mouth, and collapsed to the ground. He tried to reach out to Allison.

”You-“, Thomas coughed up some blood, “That wasn’t the deal.”

**“I said I’d let you go. And I did.”**

“Please.”, He croaked, “Take me, I’m dying anyway.”

The thing sneered before turning away, dragging Allison with him.

**”You won’t die, you’ll be reborn.”**

It was then that Thomas noticed something. The taste in his mouth had changed from iron to a different much more awful one. He felt a cold numbing his arm and looked over at it. He wasn’t bleeding blood anymore. He was bleeding ink. Sammy heard his screams of pain from down the hall and underneath all the ink, smiled. 

* * *

 Allison awoke wearily. There was a pain in the back of her head and she couldn’t move. She looked behind her to find she was tied to a pole. The last thing she remembered was seeing Tom without an arm, bleeding out. She didn’t know how long it had been and Tom was all alone. For all she knew, he could be...no, that didn’t matter. What mattered was escape. Allison heard the speakers crackle and that sickeningly familiar voice speak.

**“So, the Sheep’s awoken. Just in time. He’s already on his way.”**

“Who’s on his way?”, Allison asked, “I want to know!”

A dark chuckle came from the speaker **, “Why my lord of course. Don’t you pay any attention Sheep?”**

Allison wriggled in an attempt to get the rope off. If only she had a knife of some sort. She saw a metal door in front of going up, revealing the maze from earlier. In the corner of the hall, there was a strange black web creeping across the surface of the walls and floor. Allison stared, horrified, as a terrifying mockery of the dancing demon emerged, limping into view. It turned and stared directly at her. She swallowed, internally praying to whatever god or higher power there may be that she would live.

 **“Well Sheep.”** , The voice said in a jolly tone, **“I enjoyed seeing a new face around here. See you in Hell.”**

The thing let out a demented roar and charged towards her, gloved hand outstretched. Allison screamed, the hand meeting her face. Unimaginable pain seeped into her skin, everything glowed brightly, too brightly, pain pain **pain pain pain pain p̲̩̳̺̰ͅa͈̺̭̣͡ͅį̼̯̰̲ͅǹ̟̘̗̙ p̲̩̳̺̰ͅa͈̺̭̣͡ͅį̼̯̰̲ͅǹ̟̘̗̙ p̲̩̳̺̰ͅa͈̺̭̣͡ͅį̼̯̰̲ͅǹ̟̘̗̙** **p̲̩̳̺̰ͅa͈̺̭̣͡ͅį̼̯̰̲ͅǹ̟̘̗̙-**

* * *

A woman opened their eyes. They had a halo atop their head and a pair of horns. She squinted at the bright electronic lights in front of her. She then saw some black and a smiling mask leaned down to look at her. She felt scared of him. The man stood up straight.

 **“No...”,**  He muttered **, “This isn’t right. This isn’t what was supposed to happen.”**

She watched as he grabbed an axe. He turned back to face her. He briskly approached her raising the axe as he did. Instinctively, She kicked out her leg, knocking the man over. She dragged the axe towards her, close enough to rub her bonds against the blade. Standing up shakily, she saw the man start to get up. She ran as fast as she could. She didn’t know where, she didn’t care. As long as she could get away from him. The man in the mask shook his head and kicked the axe across the room.

 **“Fortunately she won’t get far, my Lord.”** , The creature said as though someone could hear **, “She’ll be dead before getting halfway through the Angels domain.”**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long and isn’t that good quality, I had a LOT of homework. And I was sick, which didn’t help either.


	17. Red.

Red. Red fills my vision as I stare at the two of them. They’re smiling. Laughing. Talking. I hate it. Red. I slap him. I feel a pang of guilt. But it’s not as strong as the red. He stares at me. His eyes are wide, shocked, sad, even slightly scared. I look at the girl. Allison Pendle, the backup singer, The now role stealer. I hate her. **I hate her**. He drags me outside despite my retaliations. Red, red, red. He tells me. Replaced? How could they replace _me?_ I’m perfect. Perfect perfect perfect. I scream. I hope it will make this red go away, that maybe this is an awful dream. Dreams come true. He tries to reassure me. Background roles? More dancing chairs and talking chickens. No. I deserve Alice. He tells me that he’ll be there. I don’t care if he’s there. Not after lying to me. I never want to see his face again. Never. I leave. I go home. There’s nothing left at that studio. I lie on my bed. There’s a pot with roses in it. Red roses. I knock it over. I cut my self on a shard. Red. Blood’s red. Everything is red.

 

I don’t want red anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just decided I’d write something abstract.


	18. A Light In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry finds something new.

Henry couldn’t believe that he had finally managed to get to this hall. Moving barrels for what felt like hours and scaling chains, it had all been surprisingly worth it. Walking through these halls, despite all the horrors, felt oddly dull. Like he’d seen it all before. There were no other doors in this hallway, another passage that was blocked halfway down. The only exit or entrance was the door at the end. It opened with a loud creak, dust spraying everywhere. He coughed as he inhaled it before stepping through. All the lights had died out a long time ago. There were empty glass containers everywhere. All were shattered outside the door like someone’s had dropped them. Strangely enough, there was no ink here. Henry saw a glow coming from below the next door. _Finally, some lights_ He thought as he opened it. The entire room was illuminated in yellow. It wasn't lights for sure, they were all shattered or broken. Tons of glass containers, small, large, thin, all shapes and sizes, he was sure there were even a few mugs there as well. All held a strange glowing yellow substance. 

“What the-“, He said.

It had been so long since he’d felt genuine surprise at something. Finally, something _new._ Henry stared at all of this for a few minutes. As he snapped out of his trance, excitement overtook him. He studied everything. There were notes in a book dubbing this as ‘Invisble Ink’. It explained that he could only be seen using a mixture of light and glass, that it could write over ink and that it had been placed on ‘Level 13/X’. Henry assumed that this was here. It mentioned an Ink Machine 1.0, Which was great, because this now meant that Joey probably had more than one of those nightmare creators. He payed the book back down. He was wasting time here. He needed to save Boris. Why did that sentence sound so meaningless? How long had he even spent here? Henry shook his head and walked away. His foot connected with something and it rolled away from him. A pen hit the door. Henry knelt down and picked it up. It seemed to dripping the Invisible stuff. Henry figured it wouldn’t hurt to keep it and tucked it in his pocket. On his way out however, curiosity overtook him. He wrote ‘Exit?’ on the wall and watched as it faded to nothing. It was invisible after all. Pleased with himself, Henry dropped down to the staircase and continued his trek through Hell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writers block and test stress is the perfect combination for writing anything.


	19. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkness all around.

I hear the rush of ink. I’m numb. Somehow I know that’s wrong. I feel too thin, too weak. I’m having difficulty breathing. Do I even breath? I lie on the ground. I’m too weak to stand. I’m too weak to move. There are voices. Two faint whispers and some loud voices. Angry voices. Fearful voices. Disgusted voices. I feel something grab me. I’m dragged along to somewhere I can’t see. More yelling, shouting. I’m thrown somewhere. I feel colder than before as I still lie on the ground. I managed to gain the strength to get to my feet. I can’t clearly see, but now white lines are visible. There are bars. I shakily limp over, leaning on the wall for support and stick my hand out. Somebody pushes it back in. I stumble and fall. He yells at me. I know his voice by now. He calls me disgusting. An abomination. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to exist. I don’t know who I am. Yet I know who he is. Why? What am I? I’m different from the other things. So they hate me. **I hate them.**

* * *

 

A lady walks by every now and then. She’s like me. I can feel it. I can see even clearer now. I see her horns and a halo. I see how disfigured she is. Like me. She should like me. We’re the same. Yet she doesn’t. As soon as she can speak she insults me. She says I’ll never be as **perfect** as she is. **Perfect. I hate that word.**

* * *

 

More voices keep whispering in my head. I’ve gotten used to it. They’re my only companions in this dark void. They don’t seem to know I’m here. They keep saying things like ‘free us’. I don’t know how to free them. I hear noises. I walk over to the bars and look out. Creatures. Like me. They’re roaming outside. As soon as some enter my range they just dissolve. Unfortunate. But then again, **they never liked me. So why should I care?** I see more and more pass. The Angel too. **It’s not fair! How come they’re free?! What did they do to deserve it?!**

And then the bars are gone. I’m standing in front of a wall. I take a step forward. I’m free. But what do I do with this freedom? **The voices know. It’s so obvious.**

**Set them free.**

**K̀í̡͏l̕͘l̨̕͟͠ ̶̷J̸͏̵̴ǫ͘͜͞e̵̶̕͜y̧ ̷͞͝D͝͝r͏̕͟ę͢͢͝w̨̕͜͜͡.̧͡**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They never do, but a lot of other people get killed.


	20. The Ink That Stains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not an April fools joke

He fell off the boat.

The wolf had tried to grab him, the angel screamed. Under the surface, he could feel the cold grip around him. It stained his skin, blackened his eyeballs, glogged his throat, nose and ears. Worse than that, he could feel the glowing stain grow over him. Small remnants of pen sank along with him as he violently struggled to moved his arms. But the substance was so thick and heavy and _cold._ He was 10 times slower than he would’ve been in water. A tighter grip clutched him, cracking bones. Oddly now he only realised there were remnants of the pen he broke lodged in his hand. He screamed in agony. It was cold cold cold cold cold cold cold

The red mixed with the black, swallowed whole by the darkness.

 The light didn’t come

He sank to the bottom, bones sticking through his flesh. It should’ve been black yet glowed a bright yellow. He lay there. The boat on the surface came down, the angle and the wolf dissolving into the ink surrounding him.

The prophet sat behind the boards. 

The butchers wandered forgotten halls.

And the demon sat upon it’s throne.

**_It won’t end like this._ **

 

A door opened after many years. It closed, yet the yellow glow remained.

”All right Joey, I’m here.”, He said, “Let’s find what you wanted me to see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	21. Unaccountable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Body horror, swearing and violence.

Joey sat at his desk, tapping the pen on the wood. Even with the ink made supplies he still had so much debt. Still, if Alice was any indication it was only a matter of time before he could reveal his creations to the world. There was a knock on the door. Joey stopped tapping. He put on his best smile and covered the debts with a copy of his book.

”Come in!”, He said cheerfully.

The door was opened and shut quickly as Shawn darted inside. He turned to face Mr Drew with quivering knees and a trembling lip. Shawn wasn’t usually this scared.Must’ve been the ink.

”Drew, there’s a situation with Grant, Grant Cohen!”, Shawn shakily said.

Joey felt like laughing. The man was practically trembling.

”Look Flynn, I know Grant’s been having some difficulty with accounting lately but just tell him I’ll cut his pay and coffee if he’s continues to have a temper tantrum-“

”He tried to strangle George Whittaker.”

Joey’s smile disappeared. He pushed back his chair and stood up, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward, the lighting blanketing his face in shadow. 

“Where did he do this?”

Shawn swallowed, face going pale, “He was skulking around R&D, muttering stuff about the whispers or some sh** like that. George went up to him and tried to get him to leave and he just grabbed his neck and started f**king strangling him! And-“, Shawn paused and wiped his face. He looked like he was about to burst into tears, but he kept going, “Lacie intervened and me and Murray Hill attempted to calm him down. But he wouldn’t listen, he didn’t even seem to know we were there, he kept on nattering on about the ink and money and Susie of all f**king people. Apparently he was yelling about Norman when he was strangling George but I just don’t know. We shoved him into his office and blocked the door. Murray went to ask the nurse about him but I, Well, I thought you could help.”

”Why.”, Joey asked coldly, “I have nothing to do with any of this.”

Shawn shifted from one foot to the other, “Well, when he we were talking to him, there was a brief moment when he knew we were there. We asked what was wrong and-and he said it was the whispers and their presence...was your fault.”

Joey stared at Shawn who avoided his gaze. The man was a wreck and by the sound of it Grant was far from approachable. He was about to tell Shawn to drag Grant to the nurse when something in the back of his mind whispered to him. _You don’t want a madman in your company. It could ruin your image. Worse, if he’s dragged to a doctor and they find the ink inside him, they’ll investigate the_ _machine. And you don’t want that, right?_ Joey put on a smile once more.

”I’ll go and talk to him Shawn. You just don’t think about any of this, Ok? Now go back to work, I’ll sort this out.”

Shawn briskly nodded and muttered his thank you’s before darting out of the room. Joey took his hands off his desk. He couldn’t have Grant making a mess. Reaching under his desk, he gripped the soothing cold of the axe. He weighed it in his hands. He wasn’t going to kill him, the axe was just for self defence. Even Joey knew he was probably lying. The lift doors closed with a shaky sigh before trundling down to Level S. He stepped out, face burning with a cold determination, axe in his hands. He pushed the crates before the door aside. He considered the opening of the door for a moment but stepped inside anyway. The walls were covered in inky scrawls, phrases repeated over and over. Joey was certain he saw his name somewhere. In the corner, hunched over a puddle of ink, was a man. He was dipping his finger into a puddle.

“Cohen.”, Joey barked.

The man turned to look at him. His skin was as white as paper. He didn’t even seem to blink. His eyes were wide, not with fear, but something else. Joey gripped his axe tighter and stepped forward. 

”Grant, I’ve heard you had an incident earlier. I don’t want you here anymore. You’re fired, go, leave.”

”Blah blah blah.”, The man said in response. 

Any fear Drew had melted away. This man wasn’t a threat. He took another step forward. 

“Leave.”, Joey pointed at the door.

“Money is time, time is money.”, The man whispered, eyes darting around before settling on Joey again, “What will you say?”

”I say you’ve attacked a fellow employee, you’re completely insane and you should leave.”, The man just stared, “Now.”

The man tilted his head and stared at him. He blinked for once, finally seeming fully aware of his presence. He stood up. There was something unnatural about it, like a doll or a figure on strings. Joey shifted uncomfortably underneath his stare. The man murmured something. Joey glared at him.

”I’m sorry, could you speak up?”

“Hypocrite.”, The man said, his fingers twitching, “Hypocrite. Waster! Deceiver!! LIAR!!”

The thing lunged at Joey, grabbing him by the throat. The axe fell from his hands at it knocked him to the ground. He kicked and struggled under it’s grasp, air trapped in his throat. He tried to pry the hands from his neck, star’s swimming at the edge of his vision. It let out deranged giggles as he fumbled around the ground for his axe. His limbs were growing weak. His vision dark. Any second he’d fall unconscious. Deranged laughter rang in his ears as he gripped something soothing cold. He swung the axe into it’s waist. Blood dripped onto his trouser leg, the thing reeling in pain. The axe was ripped from it’s side as it collapsed onto the ground. Joey gripped the desk for support, knocking some glass figure off. He get a firm grip on the axe, the soothing cold his only comfort. The thing lay on the ground, kicking and screeching, black leaking from it’s mouth. Joey wanted to run, but he was so out of breath and his legs were so weak and he was frozen in horror. Black oozed from it’s wound, it’s eyes, it’s nose. It swallowed it’s entire body, remoulding it. Despite it’s shrieks of pain it managed to roll onto it’s front and crawl towards Joey, who stumbled backwards. He caught the doorframe for support, the axe almost slipping from his hand. It started to take a more stable shape, a cartoon figure emerging. And yet it still had those wide manic eyes, it’s mouth unhinged in a scream. It reached for him and Joey lifted his axe with the last of his strength.

”BACK OFF!”, He screamed as well, the axe slicing across the things chest.

The thing screeched and reeled backwards. A spray of black blood covered Joey and the thing fell to the ground. It lay still. A rasp escaped it and it dissolved into nothing. 

Joey stayed there for a bit. He tried to process what happened but was too shocked to make heads or tails of it. Once his breath was back, he limped back to the elevator. Lumps of ink dripped off him like some disgusting wet flesh. Footsteps came up behind him.

”Mr Drew!”, Murray called out, slowing when he saw his messy appearance, “Um...Mr Drew...where’s Grant?”

”He left.”, Joey flatly answered, “Went ahead of me.”

Murray nodded. He looked Joey up and down, eyes fixing on the stain on his trouser leg.

”Well, um, M-Mr Drew, why do you look like that?”

”Pipe burst.”

”R-Really?”

He was getting tired of this man’s questions. Murray looked about, searching for another person. But the two were alone. He faced Joey once more, rigid.

”It’s just, it looks like....it looks like there’s blood on your axe.”

He glanced down at the axe in his hand. Beneath the black surface was some dried red. He stared Murray in his fearful eyes and pressed the button.

”Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

The cage slid over Murray’s pale face. The elevator went up and he was swallowed by an inky darkness.


End file.
